


Stairs in the Dark

by Capstar98



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: A Murder Mystery, Adult Peter Parker, BAMF Michelle Jones, Comic Details, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, Mystery, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Parker Luck, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Protective Tony Stark, Shenanigans, Suspense, The Symbiote - Freeform, Tony Stark Has A Heart, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 76,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24450292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capstar98/pseuds/Capstar98
Summary: Peter thinks he finally has his life together. He's a college graduate, living with MJ, and has a great job. Not to mention Spider-Man just took down Venom. Things are looking up.But of course, Parker Luck means that things might not be as stable as they seem, and slowly Peter starts to lose his grasp on the things that mean the most to him. Plus there's a weird string of murders happening in Queens...Whatever happens, it doesn't look like he's getting out of this one unscathed.
Relationships: Harry Osborn & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Johnny Storm, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 72
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that I've been working on for a while now, and I'm so excited to start to share it. I actually posted this same chapter a while ago, so a few lucky people out there will probably recognize it. But I took it down because I wanted to have more of the story complete first. I'm glad I did, because now I can guarantee something I've never been able to do: an update schedule!! I'll be posting once a week.
> 
> This thing's a wild ride, so buckle up, and I hope you enjoy!

Peter swung wildly from web to web, whipping around buildings and spinning past street signs. 

“I’m not too late,” he muttered. “He’s looking for me, and now I just have to hope that he hasn’t gotten too far ahead…” his eyes whipped around, trying to spot what he was searching for. He gripped Mr. Fantastic’s sonic blaster with his free hand. 

Then, on the corner, he saw an old building with the windows busted in. 

“Bingo.”

Peter didn’t stop to think before he swung in feet first, landing in a crouch on the glass-covered floor. The building looked abandoned, like something the city should have knocked down years ago, with stained walls and portions of its floor falling in. 

He looked around, on edge for any movement or sound. 

But there was no time to react between the time when the back of his neck prickled in warning and when something slammed into his back, careening him into the brick wall. The blaster went flying, his teeth rattled in his skull, and his head spun. 

“Welcome to my neighborhood, _Spider-Man_ ,” a voice hissed and spat, and when Peter’s vision cleared he saw the menacing black form standing over him, mouth white and gaping. “Would you be… could you be… _my neighbor_?” A red tongue slithered through the air, and Peter narrowly avoided his next blow by rolling out of the way. 

His heart was racing. God, this guy was obviously even more insane than he thought. Or was it the alien controlling him who was crazy? Either way, the guy was dangerous. Peter hoped his plan would work. He just needed the blaster… but it had fallen through one of the holes in the floor. 

Damn it. Time to get chatty -- he needed to distract this guy and get past him. 

“Who _are_ you?” he said, inching closer to the hole in the floor. 

The creature grinned. “I am _Venom.”_

“Yeah, I’m not stupid. I’ve heard that much. But I’m also not talking to _you._ I’m talking to whatever poor soul you’ve infected.” 

The bright eyes narrowed, and Venom paced slowly back and forth in front of him. “Well, _Spider-Man_ , we are not different. We are we.” 

“You’re crazy, is what you are,” Peter shot back, still slowly moving towards the sonic gun. “And whatever you’ve got planned is ending right here.” 

“That’s right,” Venom said, his face twisting insanely. “Because _you’re_ ending here.” 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Peter said shortly, finally twisting to slide through the hole and down to the floor below.

The blaster was right there! 

He reached out, grabbed it -- and found himself pinned to the wall by one massive black hand. 

The breath was knocked out of Peter’s lungs as he took in Venom’s face, the tongue hovering uncomfortably close to his mask. He struggled, but Venom just pushed back harder, his grip on Peter’s neck increasing. 

“Stop your squirming,” Venom snarled.

“Whoever’s in there,” Peter said desperately. The gun was in his hands, and he’d use it if he had to. But if he could save one more person, he might as well try. “Come on, just snap out of it! Fight it!” 

“There is no fighting,” Venom said, squeezing harder. Peter used his free hand to try and pry himself free, choking on breath. “We will show you.” 

Peter’s eyes widened as Venom’s face began to move -- to part, and there was something underneath… another face!

He paused in shock, breath coming short. But that was… “Eddie Brock!” he gasped. 

Brock’s smile was just as twisted as Venom’s. “Ah, so you recognize me. Seen my picture in the paper?” 

Peter couldn’t believe his eyes. Eddie used to write pieces on superheroes for the _Globe_ , and had been on television channels as an expert commentator. He’d even spoken with him before as Spider-Man. How could he… Venom had left behind people dead and dying --

“It’s your fault we have to kill you,” Brock said as Peter continued to struggle. “It’s _your fault_ we’re doing this.” 

“Why?” Peter said, desperately trying to keep Eddie’s eyes on him. Hopefully out of sight, he slowly raised the blaster to be level with Venom’s chest. “How -- How could what you’ve done _possibly_ be my fault!” 

“It’s because of you I ever even _met_ Venom.” Eddie’s eyes narrowed, and he chuckled. “Truthfully, we’ll kill you for it, and then we’ll thank you for it. With you gone, we’ll be free to do justice _our_ way.”

“Your way -- isn’t -- justice!” Peter spat. The blaster was finally aimed to fire, and he went to pull the trigger. 

The black slime that made up Venom slammed shut over Eddie’s face. Faster than Peter could track, the creature grabbed the blaster from his hand, crumpled it, and threw it across the room. 

“No!” Peter yelled. Fear and anger fueled him, and he finally broke free from Venom’s grip. He spun away, landing heavily on his side.

“There’s no stopping us, _Spidey,”_ Venom sang. 

Peter pushed himself to his feet and dove for the blaster. A strange noise was coming from it, like a high whine, and he could almost see energy spiking around it. 

Oh, god. 

The thing was going to explode. 

Peter grabbed the device in his hands and looked up at Venom, who was approaching slowly, black matter writhing. He could feel the pressure building in that spot at the back of his head, and knew that the moment was approaching. 

Peter knew what he had to do, and there was no way he could avoid the fallout. If he left the building, Venom would follow. It was safer to do it there in the abandoned building -- somewhere no one else would get hurt.

But his heart was pounding in his chest, and he could feel sweat dripping down his face under the mask. 

He was scared. Scared of what he needed to do. 

Unfortunately, there was no other choice. 

The whine the blaster was giving off rose in frequency, enough that even Venom stopped to listen. 

“No -- What is happen --” Venom said, but he was cut off as the pain in Peter’s neck rose to a crescendo. 

Peter threw the blaster at Venom, and the whole world exploded around them.

.

.

.

There was noise, so much noise, and light, and pain. Through the haze, he saw the black ooze that was Venom expand and fly away from Brock; heard their pained screams. 

The building collapsed around him, and he felt himself falling through the air. Then he slammed to the ground, and the rubble slammed on top of him. 

Somewhere in there, his vision turned dark, and he was lost to unconsciousness. 

* * *

Peter’s head pounded as he came around, and his eyes blinked open against a bright white room. He screwed up his face and groaned as the light pierced his skull. 

“Look who’s awake,” a familiar voice said by his side. He turned to look, and couldn’t help the smile that tugged across his face. Yeah, he was on the good drugs. 

“MJ,” Peter said, and his voice was quieter than he expected. At first he only felt the warmth of familiarity. Then, as he looked closer, he saw that she looked tired, and sad. Her face was drawn, and her hair was tied back messily behind her head. “You… okay?” 

MJ looked away, and then back again with a sigh. “Just… go back to sleep, Peter.” 

He shook his head. “But I’m awake,” he protested. 

Her words were clipped. “Well, you shouldn’t be awake, you should be asleep. You were hurt.” 

When Peter frowned, he felt the skin pull against a cut on his forehead. There was something in her voice -- but he couldn’t pinpoint what. His head was too fuzzy. “Are you… mad?” 

A stray lock of hair brushed his ear as she leaned forwards and cupped his jaw with her hand. Her eyes locked with his when she said softly, “I’m glad you’re safe, Peter. And I love you, okay?” Her lips pressed against the corner of his mouth. 

“That’s not… that’s not an answer,” he slurred. 

“Peter, really. Go to sleep.” MJ leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. 

He didn’t want to, but found his eyes closed of their own accord, and before he knew it he was being swept away into a dreamless sleep. 

* * *

The next time his eyes opened, it was to an empty room. 

Peter recognized it now -- it was the New Avengers’ Tower recovery ward. He’d seen the inside of it plenty of times before. For some illogical reason, some big brain had decided to make it almost perfectly white -- which always magnified his headaches with the brightness. But it was certainly recognizable. 

He remembered being awake before, but his memories were foggy. He wasn’t sure if he had been awake more times than the once. His head was much clearer now, so they must have taken him off the hard drugs. That meant his healing factor had kicked in. He probably had that to thank for the mitigated headache.

The windows showed a dark sky beyond. MJ had probably gone home to sleep -- she had never liked the New Avengers Tower, prefering to return to their own apartment when he had to stay nights to recover. He didn’t blame her -- he didn’t like it much either. It reminded him too much of what was different now, and how things had changed. 

Peter reached up a hand to touch his forehead, and felt the heavy bandage there. 

Suddenly, his eyes widened as it all came back to him -- tracking Venom, the fight, the explosion, and the building collapse. Being buried under rubble, trapped and dark -- 

He shook his head, then flinched as the motion gave him a flash of pain. 

But, what had happened to Venom? He remembered the blaster exploding, and had seen the alien parasite separate from Eddie Brock’s body in a black ooze. But Peter hadn’t secured either of them. Had they gotten free? What had happened after he had been knocked out? Surely Eddie had been trapped in the wreckage as well, but they could have reformed -- they could have escaped. 

He sat up, ignoring the angry sounds of the equipment behind him. He had to know what happened. If Venom was still out there, there were still people in danger. 

Another noise, different from the medical equipment, sounded through the room, and he turned to see his phone vibrating on the bedside table. When he saw the caller ID, he relaxed a little. Now maybe he could get answers. 

Peter picked up the phone and answered the call, and Tony Stark’s face filled the screen. He opened his mouth to say something, but Tony cut him off. 

_“Peter, you better not be getting out of bed. You are not allowed to leave that room.”_

He blinked. “Hello to you, too,” he said. 

_“I’m serious! Get back in bed -- now.”_

Peter rolled his eyes, but sat back in the bed anyways. “Geez, okay. Calm down.” 

Tony rolled his eyes right back. _“Before you say anything, I know what you’re going to ask. Yes, the freak you were fighting --”_

“Venom,” Peter supplied. 

A shrug. _“Whatever, they’re all the same to me now. But you got him, okay? The Fantastic Four have him locked up. Both of them. The guy, Brock, is headed to Ryker’s, and whatever the hell that thing was that possessed him is being contained by the Foursome and it’ll be sent to the Raft soon. And there were no new people hurt. Besides you, anyway. You don’t need to worry about it, it’s over,”_ he finished. 

Peter sighed in relief, and leaned back even further into the pillows. “Oh, thank god. If he had gotten away because I let myself get knocked out…” 

Tony shot him an incredulous look. _“Are you serious? Are you always on a crusade to make everything your fault?”_

Peter frowned. “What do you mean? Venom was looking for me -- I’m the whole reason he was causing mayhem in the streets!” 

_“That doesn’t make it your fault, Pete. But… let’s not talk about that now, I don’t have the energy to convince you.”_

“Oh,” Peter said, noticing the time. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry.” 

Tony shook his head. _“No, you’re good. I was awake reading -- I wouldn’t have noticed the alert that you were trying to get up otherwise.”_

Peter blinked. “You have alerts on my bed?” 

_“Yeah, dummy. What, did you think I was psychic or something?”_

He shrugged, smiling. “Sure feels that way sometimes.”

Tony huffed a laugh. _“Well, I’m not. But -- glad to see you’re feeling better. May called me earlier when you were still passed out, and you didn’t look too hot.”_ The words sounded light, but Peter sensed he had really scared Tony. 

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, that’s what 10 tons of rubble will do to you.” 

Tony frowned, unamused. _“Don’t joke around, Peter. None of us like to see you hurt.”_

“I know,” Peter replied quickly. “I’m sorry. But… May was here? I remember MJ earlier, but not her.” 

_“Yeah, she was with you last night.”_

Wait… “Last night?” He asked, confused. “What day is it? How long have I been here?” 

A sigh. _“You’ve been in the recovery ward for three days. Apparently your healing factor shut you down to fix your head.”_ He pointed at Peter. _“But just because you feel alright doesn’t mean you can leave -- and I’m not afraid to tell Bruce to get down there and strap you down, so don’t try anything.”_

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t.”

_“Famous last words.”_

“Really! I mean, Venom’s taken care of… and I’m tired,” Peter admitted. “I could probably use a break.” 

Tony looked concerned. _“You sure you’re okay?”_

Peter gave him a soft smile. “Yeah. It’s just been a long week. You… go to bed. I don’t want to keep you. I’m headed back to sleep myself.” 

_“Alright. Love you, Pete. Take care of yourself, okay? Try not to land in the hospital again before I come to visit next month.”_

“Deal,” Peter replied. “Good night.” 

One last smile, and Tony hung up, leaving Peter to look at his own face in the reflection from his phone. He didn’t look great -- his hair was greasy, his face still a little bruised. Hopefully by the time he woke in the morning, he’d feel even better. 

Plus, he wanted to see MJ. He couldn’t remember exactly what she’d said earlier, but she had sounded… off. He wanted to make sure she was alright. 

He put his phone aside and settled back down in the bed. It took a minute, but he managed to drift away again… 

* * *

When his eyes blinked open again, May was by his side, reading a book. Sun poured in from the window. 

She looked up with a smile when she noticed he was moving around. “Peter! Morning, sleepyhead.”

His voice was thick with sleep when he replied, “Mornin’, May.” He reached up a hand to rub his eyes, and yawned. “W’ time is it?” 

May closed her book and set it on the side table. “It’s about eleven,” she said. 

“Oh, good,” he said wryly. “Still actually morning, then.” He looked around. The white room was empty save for May. “Is MJ around?” 

“I think she went to work today,” May said. “But, they’re letting you leave tonight, so you’ll see her then.” 

He frowned. “It’s just… she’s usually here.” 

May put a hand on his knee. “She was here while you were asleep, honey. And you know she can’t take too many days off -- she’s got that strict boss.” 

Peter shrugged, feeling guilty. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.” 

She squeezed his leg. “Nothing to apologize for, Peter. Now, you want something to eat?” 

On cue, his stomach growled. He chuckled. “Yes, please.”

“Alright. I’ll go and grab something, and tell Rachel you’re awake.” Rachel was one of the nurses that worked at the Tower. “Why don’t you give MJ a call while I’m gone?”

Peter nodded and pushed himself further up. “Sounds good. Thanks, May.” 

She smiled and gave him one last squeeze before she stood and left the room. 

Peter grabbed his phone from the table, and scrolled to his most recent calls. Just below Tony was Michelle Jones. He tapped her name and brought the phone to his ear. As it rang, he wondered if she would even pick up. It was probably an awkward time to call -- not quite lunch, but too soon before it for a break. 

Sure enough, her voicemail came over the speaker. 

_“You’ve reached Michelle Jones. I can’t answer the phone right now, so please leave a message or send a text. Thanks.”_

Peter inhaled just as the tone went off, and then forced his voice to be cheerful as he said, “Hi MJ! Just wanted to let you know that I’m awake, and feeling a lot better. I’ll be home by tonight. Love you!” 

After hanging up, he looked through his list of most recent calls. Almost all of them were with Tony and May. A few of them were with Ned -- his friend was currently out of the country, exploring and staying with extended family in the Philippines. He and MJ mostly texted, or just talked in person, so there weren’t that many between them. 

Peter was excited to see her. She always managed to settle him, after experiences like this. She reminded him of who he was as a person, and not just as Spider-Man. 

They had been officially dating for two years now, and living together in the year since they graduated from college. They had a little one bedroom apartment in Ridgewood, Queens. It wasn’t a very good location for either of them, since he and MJ both commuted to Midtown for work. But, it was what they could afford (they had never accepted the offers of money from Tony), and it was decent as places went. Plus, it was relatively close to May, and it was worth it to live with MJ. He was grateful for what they had. 

The door opened, distracting him from his thoughts, and the nurse -- Rachel, a pretty woman with cropped brown hair -- walked in. 

“Morning, Peter,” she said, shifting her clipboard under her arm. “You’re looking a lot better. Are you feeling better?” 

Peter put his phone down, and nodded. “Totally. My head’s barely hurting now.” 

Rachel smiled. “That’s good to hear. You should be grateful for that healing factor of yours -- you’d have to rack up a lot more time here, otherwise.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I’m sure you’d be sick of me. If you’re not already.” 

“Never,” she replied graciously. “Now, we’re letting you go home tonight, but we’ll be sending you away with some pain meds. You should take them every four to six hours. Of course, if the pain gets worse, or you experience persistent nausea, give us a call.”

“Yeah, of course.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “I know you’ve heard this before, but just bear with me.” 

Peter laced his fingers together and looked attentive. “I’m listening.” 

“Head injuries are nothing to scoff at, as I’m sure you know. So don’t push through the pain if it gets worse -- admit it if you feel it, alright?” 

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Alright, I’ll leave you be until you check out. But -- did you want something to eat?” 

“My aunt’s grabbing some food now,” Peter replied. The door opened. “Oh, speak of the devil.” 

May walked in, balancing a tray of food. “Sorry, _who’s_ the devil? The woman who’s bringing you breakfast in bed?” She saw the nurse. “Oh, hey Rachel.” 

“Hi, May. I was just passing on the information to Peter,” Rachel said, turning for the door. “I’ll be back in a few hours to let you go, okay?” 

“Sounds good!” Peter called after her. Then he grabbed the table and spun it so it hung over the bed, and accepted the food May had brought. “Thanks, Aunt May. Sorry you have to watch me in the hospital again.” 

She took the seat next to his bed. “It’s not my favorite thing to do, I’ll admit -- I just don’t like to see you hurt. But I love you, Peter. I’ll always be here.” She ruffled his hair affectionately, then looked down at her hand as she drew it back. “Whew, you got some greasy hair, kid. Better take a shower as soon as you get home.” 

He laughed. “For sure. Love you too, May.” 

Then he grabbed a fork and set to filling his empty stomach. 

* * *

When May dropped him off on the curb outside his apartment building, the sun was setting, casting a golden glow across the street. He thanked her one last time with a kiss on the cheek, and promised to call her tomorrow, and to be over for dinner next Sunday. Then he stepped out and watched her drive away. 

He was so grateful to have May. She had always supported him, and cared for him, no matter what, and he would forever be indebted to her for that. Today was only the latest example. He thought he should do something special for her soon -- maybe for Thanksgiving, or her birthday. He’d make it a good one this year, to say thanks for everything. 

His key jangled in the lock on their door, and he entered the apartment to a dimly lit kitchen. 

They had a small one bedroom apartment that could have been the same size as one of Tony’s old walk in closets. It had enough living space in front to shove in a loveseat and a TV, and the kitchen consisted of a fridge, stove, and sink -- no counter space at all. Not that he or MJ ever really did any cooking. They lived in New York, for God’s sake. 

So the place was small, but it was homey, and there was heat, and water. They had what they needed. 

“MJ?” he called out into the apartment. But he knew after only a moment that no one was there. The door closed behind him, and the sound echoed through the room. 

Had she gotten caught up at work? Had her train broken down? She wasn’t usually this late coming home. 

Peter shrugged and dropped his bag on the couch before making his way to the bathroom. This would give him a chance to get clean before MJ got home. Then he wouldn’t smell like three days of sweat and hospital. 

When he stepped out of the shower, the mirror was foggy, and he felt like a new man. His head was still pounding a bit, so he took the prescribed pain meds. 

Then, just on time, he heard the front door open. He wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out, a soft smile on his face. 

MJ had her back to him, and was putting her purse down on their little dining table. Peter stepped forwards. “Hey, MJ,” he said.

She turned around suddenly. “Ah, Peter!” She shook her head. “Geez, you scared me.” Then, after a moment she chuckled softly and stepped into his arms. “You look better.”

Peter put a hand on the back of her head and brought her close. “I feel better,” he said. “Sorry for scaring you again. Just now and… you know.” 

She looked up at him, a tired smile on her face. “I should be used to it by now.” 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. 

MJ sighed. “Yeah. Just… tired.” She stepped back and took a few steps towards the kitchen. “Do you need dinner?” 

He nodded. “Oh yeah. I’m starving. Should we order take out?” It was kind of a tradition of theirs -- getting takeout and watching a movie on the nights he came back home from the hospital. 

“I do have some leftovers in here,” she hedged, looking in the fridge. “But I guess they’ll keep until tomorrow.” She tossed him a look. “Chinese?” 

Peter smiled. “Definitely. With lots of spring rolls.” 

“Got it. But can you call? I’m gonna take a shower.” 

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Want me to join you? I just got out.” 

“Oh, I couldn’t tell,” she said sarcastically. “I’ll just be quick, okay? Call for food and choose a movie.” She brushed his shoulder with hers as she passed by him to get to the bathroom. 

Peter changed into a pair of pajama pants and a fresh t-shirt, and grabbed his phone to call for food. Deciding on the movie was trickier, but soon enough _Close Encounters_ was queued to play on their TV.

He sat down on the couch for a minute and listened to the sounds of MJ in the shower. She seemed fine -- normal. Like nothing was wrong. Peter would think that meant that whatever she might have been feeling before, she was past it. Or maybe his drug hazed mind had imagined things. 

But then -- it was almost like she was being _too_ normal. Like it was any other day, and he had just gotten back from work, and not from the hospital. 

Peter shook his head. He was thinking about this too much.

Everything was fine. Venom was taken care of, and he was surrounded by people who cared about him. 

What could go wrong?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the interest, y'all!

“Peter, you’re here!” 

Peter turned and smiled awkwardly at his boss. “Hey, sorry I’m late.” 

Dr. Aziz walked up to him, letting out a sigh that was part amusement and part exasperation. “I’m glad to see you back, but you gotta stop showing up late, Peter. We really need you here when we start for the day. Especially since you’ve taken sick days recently.” 

“Sorry,” Peter said, “It won’t happen again.” 

“I think I’m a pretty flexible person,” Aziz continued, “But there’s a point where the rubber snaps. You see my meaning here?” He raised his eyebrows pointedly. 

Peter nodded quickly. “Yeah. Uh, yeah. I’m sorry,” he said again. He tried to find an excuse. “It’s just been… I’m still trying to get used to the commute, but I should have it by now. Won’t happen again,” he assured. 

“Right. Well.” Dr. Aziz clasped his hands and nodded. “With that said, I’d appreciate it if you help Toby today in looking through the code for bugs. We’re still trying to figure out exactly what happened for things to go so wrong in the last test.”

“Sure,” Peter replied. “No problem. And, uh -- sorry, again…” 

Aziz just waved him off. “Just do good work, Peter. I’ll check in later,” he finished as he walked back towards his office.

Peter let out a sigh and went to drop his stuff off before joining Toby at the computers. 

Dr. Aziz was a good guy, and the best boss Peter had ever had. He was organized, there for his employees, and whip smart. So it always felt bad to know he’d disappointed the man. 

He really needed to figure out how to get to work on time. It was enough that he had to miss work entirely sometimes because of Spider-Man. But really, it wasn’t his fault that people were trying to make trouble on his commute. Why couldn’t they go back to stealing things at night like normal people?

Peter dropped his bags and grabbed everything he needed before walking off through the brightly lit office to find Toby. 

It had been a week since he’d taken care of Venom, and things were looking up for him on the whole. No big bads had shown themselves, his headaches had gone away completely, and MJ was back to her normal self. 

It felt nice to focus on his life as Peter Parker for a change, too. Since Spider-Man was back to dealing with petty crime again, he could get into more of a regular routine. He had even gone to the gym the other day with MJ. That wasn’t likely something he would repeat, though, as it was hard for him to tell at this point what weights a normal human should be lifting. He had gotten a couple of strange looks for his efforts. 

One thing Peter loved about his life at the moment was the job he had. He had been working there since the start of the summer, and over the last couple of months had really gotten to know everyone there and felt like he was part of a strong team and a strong mission. 

The company he was working for, Darcorps, revolved around bio-engineering, and the branch Peter was at was developing some new surgical robots. It was just up his alley, since it combined two of his favorite branches of the sciences. Progress was slow, but steady. 

On their last test, though, something had gone really screwy with the commands, and the machine had started steadily drifting to the right. Obviously this was kind of a problem, since something meant for cutting into the human body would need to be super precise. 

The answer to their problem probably lay in the code, since one tiny mistake in that could lead to big problems. The issue was that the typo could be one comma within thirty thousand lines of code, and the only solution was to look through and test each line for bugs. 

“Hey, Peter,” Toby greeted, leaning back in his chair to look up at him. “Come to join the party?” 

Peter sat down next to him and pulled out his computer. “You know it. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” 

Toby scoffed. “Well, you’re a better man than me. But look, we’re like five percent of the way through,” he said. 

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Lovely.” 

The two of them dove into the code for the next several hours, and were still unsuccessful in finding the culprit by the time lunch came around. 

Around noon, Peter closed his computer. “I’m gonna go grab a bite,” he said to Toby. “Wanna join?” 

“Sorry -- I would, but I’m meeting my girlfriend for lunch,” Toby replied with a shrug. 

Peter nodded. “Alright then, see you back here in an hour,” he said dryly. 

Thankfully, the outside air was helpful in perking up Peter’s mood. He walked down the block to his favorite hot dog stand and waited for a minute in line, people watching as he did. Midtown was always a great place to see interesting looking people. 

“Hey, yeah, I’ll have one with mustard and onions?” Peter said once he reached the front of the line, and passed a few bucks to the guy behind the stand. A moment later he had a handful of warm bread and meat. 

He smiled after the first bite of his hot dog, and decided to walk the couple blocks over to Bryant Park. It was a nice day that day; fall was just beginning to make itself known. A few leaves in the park might even be colored. 

As he walked he took in the sights and sounds of the city around him -- the bustling people, the honking horns, and the wafting smell of garbage and motor oil. 

God, he loved New York. 

Bryant Park was nice, though, since it was like a little island in the middle of cement. Thankfully, there weren’t many people around. He sat down on the grass and pulled out his phone to make a call.

Ned was near the top of his recent calls, and as Peter tapped his name, he hoped his friend hadn’t gone to bed early. 

See, Ned was living abroad in the Philippines that year, hoping to reconnect with his extended family and get some experience living somewhere outside the states. So far, it sounded like he’d been having a blast. Peter was happy for him, but he still missed having Ned around. It was rough having your best friend so far away. But they called each other regularly, so it wasn’t  _ so  _ bad. 

_ “Peter!”  _ Ned’s happy voice came over the line.  _ “Hey, dude. What’s up?” _

“Hey, Ned,” Peter said, smiling at the excited greeting. “I’m just eating lunch. Thought I’d call.”

_ “Yeah? How’s work today?”  _

Peter crossed his legs and took another bite of his hotdog. “Alright,” he said. “Not the greatest assignment today, though.”

_ “What is it?”  _

“I’ve been going through the entire code trying to find the bug that tripped us up during the last test. And there’s  _ so _ much of it.”

_ “Ugh,” _ Ned sympathized. 

Peter chuckled. He knew Ned understood just how tedious it was. “Right? I guess somebody’s gotta do it, though.”

_ “You know I’m still jealous of that job,”  _ Ned said.  _ “I mean, robot design? Talk about dreamy.” _

“Well, I wouldn’t have gotten it without Tony’s help,” Peter said, shrugging. “I think they’re still trying to decide how they feel about me.”

Ned scoffed.  _ “Oh, shut up. You know they love you. How could they not like someone who literally  _ dreams  _ about this stuff?” _

“That was one time!” Peter said. “And you promised you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

_ “I haven’t, I haven’t,”  _ Ned laughed.  _ “Don’t worry, I’m a vault for your secrets, Pete. Just remember that when you think about crossing me. I’ve got  _ all  _ the blackmail.” _

“Cross you?” Peter repeated, amused. “Well I’ve got just as much dirt on you, so…”

_ “I don’t know, I still feel like knowing you’re Spider-Man outweighs any of my secrets.” _

“Dude!” Peter hissed. “Don’t just go saying that! How many times have I told you —”

Ned chuckled.  _ “Calm down. Nobody gives a shit here, Peter. They don’t know who Spider-Man is, and if they do they definitely don’t know  _ you, _ so I think you’re in the clear.” _

“You haven’t been wearing that shirt I gave you, then? The one with my face on it?”

_ “That was a terrible gift, you know,”  _ Ned said.  _ “You could have at least put my face on it, too.” _

Peter just grinned happily. 

_ “What has Spider-Man been up to lately?”  _ Ned asked.  _ “Anything new since Venom?” _

Peter shrugged. “It’s been pretty quiet, really. Just the normal stuff. I wouldn’t mind just the normal stuff for a while, though.”

_ “Yeah, you deserve it,”  _ Ned said. 

“What have you been up to, then?” Peter asked him. “Any new stories?”

_ “Oh, man — do I. It just happened actually — this dude on the beach, you’re never gonna believe what went down!” _

Ned launched into his story excitedly, and Peter just listened, chiming in every once in a while with an appropriate reaction. 

“Man, that is  _ wild!”  _ Peter said as Ned wrapped up. “And that bit about the dolphin — that’s true?”

_ “Yeah it’s true! Dude, I wish you could come visit. That would be so fun!” _

Peter chuckled. “Yeah, I wish I could too. I mean… maybe some time in the spring? It’s just -- you know, the tickets are so expensive.”

_ “You don’t have to tell me,”  _ Ned sympathized.  _ “But at least when you get here things are cheap — like, compared to New York? It’s crazy.” _

“That sounds nice. But, yeah — maybe after New Years I’ll have a bit more money, and I could come visit. Although, are you — you’re coming home for Christmas though, right?”

_ “Yeah, I am. I think my parents would disown me if I didn’t,”  _ Ned joked. 

“Well, that’s a relief. I can use you as an excuse for family-free time.”

_ “Oh please,”  _ Ned said, and Peter could tell he was rolling his eyes.  _ “You love family time. Don’t pretend that you don’t.” _

Peter chuckled. “Okay, guilty.”

_ “That’s right,”  _ Ned replied. 

“How’s your family?” Peter asked, taking the last bite of his hotdog and crumpling up the paper.

Ned let out an amused sound.  _ “Well, it’s never a dull moment, I can tell you that. Lately I’ve been put on babysitting duty a lot, too.” _

“How old are the youngest ones again?” 

_ “Five and eight. And they’re little devils. I had to stop Tala the other night from climbing on top of the fridge to grab cookies!”  _

Peter chuckled at the thought of Ned wrangling little kids. “You’re getting along with everyone, though?” 

_ “Oh, totally,”  _ Ned said easily.  _ “They’ve all been super nice, and it’s not awkward at all. Kind of already feels like I’ve known them forever, honestly.”  _

“That’s great,” Peter said. He was happy Ned was having a good time -- he knew that one of the things his friend had been nervous about was whether or not his family would like him. 

_ “Yeah, it’s good,”  _ Ned said, and Peter heard him yawn. _ “Well I’m headed to bed, I think. Have a good rest of your day.” _

“Okay. Sweet dreams, Ned,” Peter teased. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

_ “Good deal. Bye!” _

Peter hung up the phone and shoved it in his pocket before pushing himself to his feet. 

He always felt better after talking to Ned. He was one of those people who could never fail to put a smile on his face. Peter wished he could go visit in the spring. And who knew, maybe he’d be able to scrounge up the money. But the unfortunate truth was, that probably wasn’t going to happen. He just didn’t have money for side trips across the world. 

Peter shrugged, and tossed the paper from his hotdog into the nearest trash can. Maybe he could let go of his pride for a minute and ask Tony for tickets as a Christmas present. 

He did hate asking Tony for money. It always felt embarrassing and wrong, not to mention he didn’t want Tony to think he was using him for his money. Not that Tony would probably ever think that at this point, but it was about the principle of the thing. 

Peter had probably gotten his aversion to charity from Ben, though -- and so he was ironically proud of it. 

As he walked back to work, Peter thought about what Ben’s reaction to his life now would be, and imagined him and Tony interacting. 

Just the thought of it made him chuckle. 

* * *

A few hours later, Peter was free from work -- they had eventually found the bug, or at least  _ a  _ bug in the system, thank god -- and he swung back home, taking the long way back so that he could check on what he knew were main avenues for trouble. 

The city seemed pretty quiet that evening, though. Peter supposed even bad guys had to take nights off. 

A familiar noise distracted him from his thoughts, and he looked left to see a bright light coming towards him. 

Peter waved, and swung up to land in a crouch on top of the nearest building. 

“What’s up, Johnny?” Peter said as the Human Torch landed on the roof next to him.

“Spidey!” Johnny Storm said with a grin, walking towards him. “Just the guy I wanted to see.” 

Peter cocked his head. “You know you can just call me, right?” 

Johnny shrugged. “Yeah, well -- I was out flying anyways, thought I’d see if I could find you.” 

“What’s the news? Reed get stuck in the pickle jar again?” 

“Well, that -- and, I wanted to update you about Venom,” Johnny Storm replied. “He’s contained -- for good, this time. He’ll be sent to the Raft once SHIELD can muster up enough man power to move him. Reed built the cell himself though, so that sucker won’t be getting out anytime soon.” 

“That’s good to hear. Thanks for the assist there, by the way. That guy was really starting to piss me off.”

Johnny chuckled and took a seat on the side of the roof. “Yeah, be sure to call us whenever you’re out of your league again.” __

“Sure,” Peter said dryly, joining him. “I’d tell you to do the same, but I don’t think I have enough on my data plan for all the calls I’d get.” 

Johnny just rolled his eyes. Then he rubbed the back of his neck, and said, “But, you’re doing good? I know you got smacked around pretty hard.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Peter replied easily. “Got my head knocked a little bit, but you know me -- never down for long.” 

“Good,” Johnny said with a grin. “It’s bad sport to mess with an injured man.” He reached forwards suddenly and gave Peter a hard shove. 

Peter let himself be pushed off the edge of the roof. He didn’t fall far, though. His feet caught the side of the building and he stood horizontally from the ground, his hands on his hips. “One day I’m gonna let myself hit the ground, just to spite you,” Peter said, walking up the wall back to Johnny and fighting to keep a grin off his face.

Johnny was laughing openly at him. “God, that never gets old,” he said, leaning forwards to grab Peter’s hand and pull him back onto the roof. 

“I hate you,” Peter said happily as he sat down again. He elbowed Johnny in the side. “So what are you doing tonight? Wanna come over and hang out?”

Johnny shook his head apologetically. “Nah, I can’t tonight. Reed’s having us do drills with this new gadget he’s cooked up.” He flashed Peter a smile. “Movie marathon soon, though? I still can’t believe you haven’t watched the Fast and Furious series.” 

Peter shrugged. “It’s not my fault I have good taste.” 

“Hey!” Johnny exclaimed indignantly, raising a finger at him. “You can’t knock it until you try it.” 

Peter raised his hands placatingly. “Fair enough, fair enough.” 

Johnny pushed himself to his feet. “I guess I should get going. Sue promised to make lasagna tonight.”

Peter stood up as well. “How about a race before you go? Just down to the bridge.” 

Johnny smirked. “Oh, you know I can’t resist that. I never pass up a chance to beat you.” 

“Confident, are we?” Peter said, backing and stepping up so that he was standing on the edge of the roof. “We’ll see about that.” Then, with a smile, he shouted: “Go!” 

Peter flipped off the edge of the roof, hearing Johnny’s indignant cry above him and a burst that meant he’d flamed on. He let himself fall for only a moment before reaching out and shooting a web as far as he could. Then he yanked on it, swiftly changing the direction of his fall. 

He could see the light from Johnny’s flames just behind him, and moved his arms as fast as he could, swinging and pulling and leaping towards the bridge that was just a few blocks down. 

As always, though, when Johnny got his flames going enough he was unstoppable, and Peter heard a whoop of excitement as the flaming man reached the bridge before he did. 

Peter webbed the bridge, but didn’t bother landing on it, instead swinging all the way around and landing back on a rooftop in a handstand. 

“Close, but not close enough!” Johnny flashed him a cheeky thumbs up. “See you later, web head!” he called. 

Peter shifted onto one hand and flipped him off with the other as Johnny flamed again and flew upwards into the sky with a burst of laughter, leaving a trail of fire behind him. 

* * *

Not too much later, Peter had met up with MJ and two of them were sitting in a booth at a diner a block from their apartment, talking over dinner. 

“See, this is interesting,” MJ said, pointing a french fry at him. 

“What?” Peter replied, mouth full of turkey club sandwich. 

MJ twirled the fry between her fingers for a moment before sticking it in ketchup and popping it in her mouth. “You say you don’t like mayo, and then you go and put it on your sandwich.”

“When did I say I didn’t like mayo?”

“Like, literally yesterday.”

Peter shrugged. “Well, maybe we have a rocky relationship. You shouldn’t be so nosy.”

MJ looked like she was fighting to keep a smile off her face. “I can’t help it when the smell is invading my nose. Don’t expect me to kiss you with that mouth.”

Peter took another bite. “What, this mouth?” he said through a mouth full of food.

“You know, sometimes I wonder what I see in you,” MJ said, shaking her head.

“It’s probably the abs,” Peter said reasonably. “I mean, from the neck up I look like a gopher.”

“Jesus,” Michelle snorted. “You do not look like a gopher.” She considered him. “A groundhog, maybe.” 

He nodded solemnly. “You’re right. Looking back, being asked to star in that movie with Bill Murray  _ as _ the groundhog makes a lot more sense.”

“What animal do you think I look like?” MJ asked teasingly. 

Peter raised his eyebrows and looked around. “Is this a test? Are there hidden cameras around? Hello?” 

“No, no, come on,” MJ laughed. “What animal do I look like?” 

“Alright then,” Peter made a show of considering her. “Hmm… maybe a  _ beetle  _ or something. A centipede. Something grotesque, with a lot of extra legs.”

“Oh, my god,” MJ said dramatically. “You’re so right. How could I not have seen it before?” 

“Do you not remember the time you used to be a beetle?” Peter asked, taking another bite of his sandwich. “And then I kissed you and you turned into a human?” 

Michelle sighed. “Must be one of those repressed memories, I guess,” she said. 

Peter shuddered. “I wish I could repress it. I would not recommend kissing a beetle.” 

MJ threw a fry at his face. “Oh, quiet you.” 

The waitress had chosen that moment to step up to their table, of course, and she looked down at the two of them with amusement. “You two doing okay over here?” 

“Yes, thanks,” MJ replied. 

“I think we might need some more mayo, actually,” Peter said. “Just -- bring a couple bottles over.” 

MJ raised her eyebrows at him in warning. “You are asking for trouble.” 

“Actually, I’m asking for mayo,” Peter said, straight faced. 

“You do not need to bring any mayo,” MJ told the waitress.

The woman just chuckled at the two of them. “Alright then. Let me know if you change your mind.” 

When she walked away MJ threw another fry at Peter. He caught it in his hand and popped it in his mouth with a grin. 

“Why do I take you anywhere?” MJ said, shaking her head incredulously. 

“Uh, the abs, right?” MJ raised another fry threateningly, and Peter backed down with a chuckle. “Okay, okay! Mercy. I’ll behave myself.” 

He took another bite of his sandwich, and through a full mouth, asked, “Why don’t you tell me about work, then. How’s everything?” 

Michelle worked for a paper called the  _ Chronicle  _ that focused on reporting on and highlighting injustice in New York City and around the world. She’d been working there a bit longer than Peter had been at his job, and in the beginning had been really excited to start there. 

“Actually, it’s been kind of weird lately,” MJ said, frowning slightly. “I feel like they’re using me for all the busy work, and not letting me actually  _ do  _ anything. I went there to write and report, but I mostly just fact check other peoples stuff.”

“That’s important though, right?” Peter said supportively. “I mean, the paper would fall apart if they started getting things wrong all the time.”

MJ shrugged. “Yeah, I guess somebody’s gotta do it. I just wish I was writing more, and somebody was fact checking  _ me,  _ you know?”

“Yeah, I do,” he said. “But you’ll get there. I know you will. You’re way too awesome to be a fact checker forever.”

Michelle rolled her eyes, then gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Peter,” she said. 

Peter smiled back. Of course MJ would get over this bump in the road. She was the smartest woman he’d ever met. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she’d be at the top of the pile, and he couldn’t wait to see it happen. 

But for now, he just took another bite of his sandwich and changed the subject. “Speaking of awesome, Ned told me this crazy story today about an old dude and a dolphin. You won’t believe...” 


	3. Chapter 3

“So, now that I’ve caught up with Peter… how’ve you been, Michelle?” May asked, reaching for the salad tongs.

Peter and MJ had joined May for Sunday night dinner (as promised) at her apartment. May had cooked up chicken carbonara, and Peter was happily digging in after assuring May that he had felt no lingering effects since his release from the hospital. 

MJ shrugged, and smiled. “Pretty good,” she replied. 

May was putting salad on her plate now. “How’s the  _ Chronicle?” _

“Work’s good. I mean, I’ve been working on some interesting projects.” MJ wrapped her hand around her glass, and let out a little sigh. “But…”

“What?” May encouraged. 

“Well… I just feel like I’m not doing what I thought I’d be doing, you know? I’ve only written a few originals.” 

May shrugged. “Well, it always takes time to build yourself up in a new job. I’m sure you’ll get more interesting stuff soon. Just -- keep pushing them for it,” she added, pointing her fork at MJ. “I’ve learned the hard way that if you’re not noisy about something they’re not gonna give it to you.” 

Peter smiled and shoved a bite of chicken in his mouth. “I always wondered where I got the talent for being so annoying,” he joked. 

“It’s not being  _ annoying,”  _ May defended, “It’s being  _ persistent.  _ And don’t talk with your mouth full. _ ”  _

MJ laughed. “Thanks, May,” she said. “I guess you’re right. Things aren’t gonna happen immediately.” 

“Exactly,” May said. She took a sip of her wine and asked, “So, what’s the coolest thing you’ve worked on so far?” 

MJ swallowed before saying, “Probably the story we did on maternal health in Sierra Leone. Pretty heartbreaking stuff, but they’re doing incredible work over there.” 

She launched into an explanation, slowly getting more excited, her hands moving more as she got more worked up. 

Peter just watched her happily, and encouraged her to continue. He loved seeing MJ like this. This was one of the things he loved the most about her -- just how passionate she was. May had the same spark and drive, and it was nice seeing them talk together. 

“Peter, what did you say to me about that the other day?” May asked, looking over at him. 

He realized he’d kind of clued out of the conversation. “Uhh… huh?”

May rolled her eyes. “Someone’s ready for dessert, I guess. I hope some of your worldliness can rub off on him, MJ,” she joked. “Peter’s head can get stuck in the clouds.” 

MJ brought up a hand to rub his back. “I’ve tried,” she said, feigning condescension. “This man is hopeless. The only politics he cares about are street politics.” 

“Hey, that’s not true,” Peter defended. “I care about lots of things. It just comes down to the fact that it’s harder to knock out maternal mortality with a fist than the Scorpion, or someone.” 

MJ chuckled and squeezed his shoulder. “I know, Pete.”

“We all have our strengths,” May said diplomatically. “And thankfully, one of yours is walking, so you can go and get the pie from the oven.” 

Peter shook his head, bemused, and pushed back from the table to go and grab desert. 

As he was pulling out some small plates he heard MJ ask, “You made a pie?” 

“God, no,” May said. “I just got one at Whole Foods.”

“That’s because the last time she made pie she almost burned down the apartment,” Peter called over from the kitchen. 

“It was a small fire!” May said defensively.

MJ was laughing when Peter brought back the pie and plates and set them on the table. 

“I’ve never understood how you can cook so well, but everything you bake ends up a mess,” Peter said, taking his seat again. 

May shrugged, pulling the pie towards herself. “Baking’s all about being exact. That’s not really my style. I’m more go with the flow.”

“It’s good that you can cook, though,” MJ said. “We can barely even do  _ that.” _

“Well, you can learn. Before Ben and I got married he couldn’t cook a thing.” 

Peter snorted. “Don’t be too nice,” he said. “Uncle Ben never learned to cook anything more than grilled cheese.” 

May raised her eyebrows with a smile. “And that was progress.” 

“How’d you meet Ben?” MJ asked, expression curious. 

May smiled softly as she reached for the pie and started to cut out pieces. “It’s a funny story, actually. He always did tell it better than I do, but I’ll give it my best shot.” She pulled out a piece of pie and put it on a plate. “So, we actually went to the same high school, but he was a couple years older than me, and so we never were friends or anything then. You know how much age matters in high school.” 

MJ nodded. 

Peter just smiled and went to take a bite of the pie May had cut for him. He’d heard this story plenty of times before, but he still found it funny. 

“Well, I went off to college, but came back to live here afterwards. At the time, Ben had been working as a cop, and --” 

MJ cut in. “A cop? Really?” She looked over at Peter, surprised. 

“Yeah,” May said, chuckling. “That didn’t last too long for him, but he didn’t have enough money to go to college at the time, so he thought it was the best option.” She cut a final piece of pie for herself and then pushed the tin away. “Anyways, I was dating this guy Ian, who I was totally blindly in love with. Thought we were gonna get married, have kids… the whole shebang.

“I thought Ian was the nicest guy ever. But then one day, this cop shows up at my door. It was Ben,” May continued with a wry smile. “And he asked me if I knew where Ian was.”

“Oh, gosh,” MJ commented. 

“Yup. Turned out that Ian hadn’t been working a cute job as a pharmaceutical rep, he’d actually been working with gangs to sell drugs internationally and had been fighting people at gunpoint.” May had a humored look on her face.

Peter looked at her, incredulous. He had never heard this part of the story before. “How come I’ve never heard this before?”

May just took a bite of pie and raised an eyebrow at him. “Really? You think we’d tell a little kid about that part of the story? You just haven’t asked me to fill in the details since you turned 18.” 

He laughed in amazement. “I can’t believe this.” 

“Wait, finish the story then!” MJ said to May. “What happened next?” 

May let out a sigh. “Well, you can imagine what happened next. Ian was convicted of lying to me, of course, and then  _ actually _ jailed for all the stupid shit he’d been doing. And Ben started coming around, checking in on me for way longer than he needed to.” She shrugged. “We became friends, and then he asked me out for real, and the rest’s history.” 

Michelle chuckled. “Oh, my god. Now  _ that’s  _ a meet-cute.”

May just smiled. “How did  _ your _ parents meet, MJ?” she asked. 

Peter glanced quickly at MJ. He knew the topic of her parents was a touchy subject.

She seemed to be unbothered, though. “Oh, just through work,” she replied easily. “Nothing as interesting as that.” 

“Every story has a beginning,” May said with a shrug. “And an end, I guess,” she added, quieter. 

There was a beat of awkward silence before May looked around at them again, looking a little pained. “Sorry, that was a bit morbid of me.” 

“No, it’s okay,” MJ reassured, her own expression mirroring May’s.

Peter had to choke down his bite of pie before he could quickly move the conversation along, “I guess we don’t really have that interesting of an origin story either, MJ.” 

“Seriously?” MJ said, her face clearing to look incredulous. “I think me finding out that you’re Spider-Man is a pretty eventful start to things.”

Peter shrugged. “I guess it’s more dramatic from your side of things. I mean, I already knew I was Spider-Man.” 

“Is that really your start?” May asked. “Or was it when you got back together a couple years later?” 

“May, it’s all connected,” Peter explained, waving his fork around. “You can’t leave the first part out. I mean, you mentioned high school.”

“Okay, okay,” May conceded.

“Well,” MJ said, with a tone that shifted the conversation. “This food was delicious. Thanks for the meal, May.” 

May chuckled. “It’s okay, you can say it. I know you just use me for free dinners.” 

“That is  _ not _ true,” Peter said. “We also use you for free dessert.”

“Oh, really? Well, today the cost of dinner is to do the dishes. Think you’re up to that, Spider-Man?” 

Peter jumped up and gave a mock solute. “Aye-aye, captain.” 

MJ laughed at him. “May, I hope you realize your nephew is a certified weirdo.” 

May snorted. “Yeah, don’t worry, I figured that one out a  _ long  _ time ago.” 

“Really?” Peter said, mock-offended. He placed his dish in the sink. “If I was  _ crazy,  _ do you think I could do this?” 

He sprung off the ground and landed on his feet on the ceiling.

MJ and May just stared at him before sharing a longsuffering glance. 

“I don’t think we should answer that one,” May said. She stood with a dramatic sigh and gave a pull on Peter’s hand. He smiled and easily spun back down to the ground. “Now, I’m gonna turn on HGTV, and you two deal with the dishes.” 

As they washed and dried, however, Peter could see May watching them out of the corner of his eye, a soft smile on her face.

* * *

The next day, the two of them were at the grocery store, picking up food for the next week. 

“What kind of butter did you say you wanted?” Peter called out to MJ. “Almond?” 

“Why would I want almond?” MJ said from down the aisle. “Everyone knows how bad almonds are for the environment. You know every almond takes a whole gallon of water.” 

Peter nodded. “Oh, right. Yeah. So, what kind?” 

“Maybe cashew? That could be fun.” 

Peter grabbed some cashew butter and put it in the cart with everything else. “6.79?” he muttered, shaking his head at the price.

“My question is, why does food have to be so expensive?” Peter wondered as he walked up to MJ. “I mean, what are the overheads on making a jar of cashew butter? How much profit are they making?”

Michelle raised an eyebrow at him. “You planning on organizing a protest here in the sandwich aisle?” 

“Maybe I should!” Peter said, half serious and half joking. “You have your causes. Mine is the fair pricing of nut butter.” 

“Okay,” MJ said, stifling chuckles as she grabbed a loaf of whole grain bread from the shelf. “Let me know when the first meeting is, I’ll come and support.”

“The first meeting is now. It’s happening right now. This is it.”

MJ looked around the otherwise empty aisle. “Hm. Good turnout.” 

Peter pointed a finger. “You laugh now. Just you wait -- change is coming for you. In five years, you’ll be able to buy that cashew butter for five cents cheaper!”

MJ elbowed him playfully as she passed him and headed back up the aisle. “Awe inspiring, honey. Keep up the good work.” 

Peter chuckled to himself and turned the cart around so that he could follow her. “Do we really have to cook this week?” he asked. “That Italian place is doing delivery now,” he enticed.

“No, we’re doing this,” MJ said defiantly. “Your aunt’s inspired me to learn.” 

“MJ, we live in New York! We’re surrounded by world class food.” 

MJ dropped a box of tofu in the cart. “Yeah, with no money to buy it.”

Peter pouted. “Come on now, don’t bring reality into this.” 

She just rolled her eyes again, and the two of them kept looking for what they needed. 

As they were checking out, Peter spotted a stack of newspapers and grabbed one to glance over as he waited. It was full of the classic dread-inspiring headlines: the stock market wasn’t doing so well; the president had done something embarrassing at an international conference. And then as he turned to the third page, a small headline in the corner caught his eye. 

“INMATE BREAKS OUT OF RYKER’S PRISON”

Eyes widening, Peter scanned the article for any mention of who it was that escaped. When he found the name, he let out a relieved breath. It wasn’t Brock, or anyone else that he had put away in Ryker’s over the years. It was just some guy named Cassady. 

He barely got a chance to glance at the picture before he heard MJ calling his name.

Peter looked up and saw her walking away from the register, pushing the cart full of groceries in reusable bags ahead of her. He folded up the paper as quick as he could and hurried after her, giving the cashier an apologetic smile as he went.

“Hurry up, slowpoke,” MJ said to him.

They stopped at the front of the store and started picking up the bags. Peter grabbed the majority of them, since the weight wasn’t really a problem for him. 

“By the way, I need you to come with me to this work party thing,” MJ said to him casually as they walked out through the automatic sliding doors and out onto the sidewalk. 

Peter glanced over at her. “Huh? Uh -- when is it?” 

“This Thursday. It’ll be good -- it’s at a little museum in Brooklyn.” 

He shrugged. “Yeah, okay. Sure.” Then a thought came to him. “Wait, is John gonna be there?” 

“I mean, yeah,” MJ said with a shrug. “He does work there.” 

Peter let out an annoyed sigh. 

“Oh, come on,” MJ huffed. “You can’t still have a problem with him. I told you, we dated for like a week.”

“I don’t have a problem with  _ him,”  _ Peter said defensively. “It’s his dad I don’t like.”

“Well, you know we can’t choose our parents, and besides -- his dad isn’t gonna be there,” she pointed out. “ _ And,  _ I think if you actually talked to him you’d get along. He’s a nice guy.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Peter grumbled. 

MJ raised a warning eyebrow at him. “You still owe me after I went to that very strange and awkward fourth of July party at your office.” 

“No, no -- I’ll go. Your work parties are always fun.” 

She flashed a satisfied smile. “Okay, good.” 

They finished the walk back to their apartment in relative quiet, the two of them just watching others that they passed on the street. 

The apartment was dark when they walked in, and MJ flicked on the lights. 

As Peter was putting the groceries down on the table, his phone rang.

He picked it up. “Oh, hey Tony,” he said happily. 

Tony’s face filled the screen, wavering for only a moment as the connection settled.  _ “Hey, kid! You’re looking better.”  _

Peter walked over to the couch and sat down. “Thanks, yeah, I feel completely better. No more headaches.” 

Tony frowned.  _ “You were getting headaches?”  _

“Just for like a day,” Peter shrugged, attempting to brush off the concern. “And like I said, they’re gone now, so it’s nothing to worry about.” 

From out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw MJ look over at him for a moment, and then continue putting the groceries away. 

_ “Okay,”  _ Tony said skeptically, but thankfully he let the matter drop.  _ “How was the week?” _

Peter scoffed and shifted on the couch. “Pretty boring, really. The whole team’s been working on debugging the operating code for our current project.”

_ “Well, you could probably use some boring,”  _ Tony pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

Peter heard a commotion in the background of Tony’s side of the call, and a high voice say,  _ “Daddy, is that Peter? Are you talking to Peter?”  _

Tony smiled down at his daughter before looking back up into the camera.  _ “Wanna say hi to Mo, Pete? She’s right here.”  _

Peter nodded. “Yeah, totally!” 

The camera blurred as Tony passed the phone down to Morgan, and then it settled on a view of the girl’s excited face.

_ “Petey! Hi!”  _

Peter chuckled. “Hey, Morguna. What’s up?” 

_ “I was just playing in the treehouse with Frances, but she had to leave because her mom came,”  _ she replied. 

“What awesome things were you doing in the treehouse?” Peter asked.

_ “We were pretending like the treehouse was a boat, and Frances drew a treasure map, and we were singing songs and stuff!”  _

_ “Is that something you’re learning about in school?”  _ Peter heard Tony ask. 

Morgan shook her head.  _ “No, it’s like Captain Jessica.” _

_ “Captain Jessica?”  _

The little girl’s face looked incredulous.  _ “From  _ Captain Jessica and the Sea Planet.  _ My favorite show? We were watching it last night!” _

_ “Oh, that’s that girl’s name?”  _ Tony said.  _ “You know, I think it’s a stretch to call her a captain. I mean, in the last episode her ship sank.”  _

Peter shook his head in amusement before he looked up to see MJ settling down on the couch beside him. She leaned in and waved. “Hey, Morgan!” she said, smiling. 

_ “Emmy!”  _ Morgan said happily. 

Tony got into frame on his side of things. _ “Hey there, MJ.”  _

“Hi, Tony,” MJ replied. “How’re things down on the farm?” 

Tony flashed a thumbs up.  _ “Things on the farm are good,”  _ he said.  _ “We’re just checking in.” _

“Are you guys still coming to town in a couple weeks?” 

_ “Yeah!”  _ Morgan said, smiling again.  _ “On my fall break!”  _

Tony nodded.  _ “It’s still in the books. And we’ll be staying with you two the first night.”  _

“I don’t think that’s ever been a good idea,” Peter said. 

_ “Nope!”  _ Tony said happily.  _ “But it’s tradition.”  _

Peter and MJ looked at each other, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah, okay Tony,” Peter said. 

There was an indistinguishable voice in the background of the call that Peter assumed was Pepper. 

Tony looked over his shoulder, and then back into the camera.  _ “That’s Pepper saying it’s dinner time, so we gotta split. But I’ll call again next week, okay?”  _

“Okay,” Peter said. “Love you guys.” 

_ “Love you too, Pete. Say bye, Morgan.”  _

_ “Bye!”  _ Morgan said. 

The dial tone sounded, and the phone returned to the home screen. Peter turned it off and shoved it in his pocket. 

“It’s nice that they call so much,” MJ said, leaning back and twisting her hair into a big bun. 

Peter knew she must be thinking about her dad, who had a history of being an asshole. He’d moved across the country a few years earlier and had very little contact with his daughter. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m lucky.” He twisted an arm around her. “But you know they love you just as much as me. Maybe more, honestly.” 

MJ rolled her eyes, but a smile crept onto her face. “I don’t know about  _ that,”  _ she said. 

“I’m serious!” Peter said, giving her a squeeze. “May, Tony, Pepper -- Morgan especially. I think they’d choose you over me in a heartbeat at this point.” 

MJ gave Peter’s chest a little shove, grinning now. “Oh, shut up. You know that’s not true.” 

“Okay, maybe not,” Peter conceded. “But they do care about you a lot.” 

She nodded, her expression turning thoughtful. “Yeah, I -- I know.”

“Good,” he said, and pulled her even closer to his side.

* * *

_ Be-beep, be-beep! _

Peter reached out a blind hand and grabbed his phone, pushing the side button to shut up his alarm. 

Groaning, he blinked his eyes open and turned onto his side to face MJ. She was waking too, and let out a sigh. 

Then Peter cast a look beyond Michelle to the window, and immediately wanted to shut his eyes again. “Oh, no,” he mumbled. 

It was raining buckets outside, the drops splattering against their windowpane and sliding down in streams. Beyond, the sky looked dark and gloomy. Not that he didn’t like storms, but patrolling -- and commuting -- in the rain was not so pleasurable as getting to look at it from inside. 

“Today should be fun,” MJ said dryly, mirroring his distaste at the weather. She let out a short breath, and started moving the sheets back. “Better get it over with, I guess.”

Peter rubbed his eyes. “Today’s another test day,” he said. “Hopefully this time we’ve actually worked out the kinks and the thing doesn’t go haywire.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out either way,” MJ assured easily. She stood and shook out her hair. “Well, let’s get this show on the road.”

“Or — hear me out,” Peter said hopefully, pushing up onto his elbow, “we could stay in bed.”

MJ raised an eyebrow. “Ooh, nice offer, champ. But… I’m pretty sure there’s no coffee in this bed.”

“Maybe you just haven’t looked hard enough. I found a  _ lifesaver  _ once!”

MJ walked over to the dresser as she said, “See, you should put the mask on before you make a joke like that. I’d never rob a bank again.”

“You love the jokes,” Peter said, finally following her out of bed. “You can’t tell me otherwise.” He came up behind her and pressed a kiss onto her neck. 

She pushed him away, fighting to keep a smile off of her face. “You’re insufferable,” she said. 

Peter just smiled. “Yup. And you love me for it.”

“I’ll be sure to mention this conversation to my therapist,” she said dryly. Then, after a moment she rolled her eyes and kissed him one last time. “There. Now put some pants on.”

Peter did so happily.

A few minutes later, they were seated at the breakfast table, Peter wolfing down a plate of eggs and toast. He’d learned a long time ago that, because of his fast metabolism, skipping breakfast turned into a bad scene. 

Conversely, across the table from him MJ just sipped from a cup of coffee and flipped through her phone. She’d always been in the habit of keeping up with current events, and she’d only done it more since she started working for a paper. 

“Oh, god,” she breathed at one point. 

Peter looked up from his plate, fork in hand. “What is it?”

MJ’s eyes were wide as she stared down at her phone, scrolling through an article. “This is horrible. They found — a couple was found murdered. This was in Queens.”

“Where?” Peter said quickly. “What — who were they?”

“Here, just read the article,” she said, passing him her phone. “I don’t think it’s anyone we know, though.”

FOREST HILLS COUPLE FOUND DEAD IN APARTMENT

> A couple living in Forest Hills, Queens, were found murdered Monday night in their apartment. Melvyn Rikard (31) and Peyton Ross (29) were both teachers at a public school in Forest Hills. When the two of them didn’t show up for work on Monday and still couldn’t be contacted by that night, a concerned colleague went looking for them. They are suspected to have died sometime Sunday night. So far there are no identified suspects, and police have denied comment. 

The article continued with interviews from a couple of the victims’ families and friends, but Peter stopped reading there. 

“Jesus,” he said, shaking his head and passing the phone back to MJ. “That’s terrible.”

MJ looked back through the article, her brow furrowed. “I wonder who the  _ Chronicle _ has on this.” 

Peter took another bite of his eggs. “They report on stuff like that?” 

MJ shrugged. “Yeah. Usually it’s more retrospective type stuff, though, so it wouldn’t  _ just _ be about that most of the time.”

“Right,” he said, half understanding what she meant. He stood up from the table to drop his plate in the sink. “Hey, you wanna swing with me today?” Sometimes he’d take MJ along as he swung to midtown. She didn’t always take him up on it, though, since she used the time on the train to catch up on work or read.

She raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Peter, it’s pouring out.” 

He considered that. “You make some good points.” 

“I can’t believe that you even go out in weather like this.” MJ replied, rolling her eyes and turning back to her phone. “I’ll see you tonight,” 

Peter grabbed his things and gave her a kiss on the top of her head before he was out the door. 

Swinging to and from work had to be some of Peter’s favorite parts of the day. It wasn’t quite as enjoyable with the sky coming down on him, but in his mind it still beat taking the train during rush hour.

If only his suit was waterproof. He and Tony had tried, once, to make the spandex-style suit waterproof, but although they succeeded it was always a little too effective -- it kept the sweat in, too. The Iron Spider suit was water-tight (and space-tight), of course, but he didn’t prefer that one nearly as much. It was a little too flashy for him at this point.

Peter settled into swinging, his arms moving from muscle memory, and kept his eye and ear out for disturbances. He didn’t expect there to be much. Even criminals didn’t like to hang out in the rain. 

But of course, his morning commute wouldn’t be complete without some kind of disturbance. 

Sure enough, as he was crossing the Queensboro Bridge a large noise made him stop in his tracks.

Peter landed on the arch of the bridge and looked down to see what the cause of the noise was. “What was that?”

His eyes widened when he spotted an 18 wheeler that had crashed through the barrier and currently had nine wheels over the edge of the bridge. 

“Okay, not good!” 

Peter shot a string of web onto the cab of the truck and gripped his feet tight to the metal of the arch. He ignored the rain streaming onto him from above. “This had better work!”

Peter could hear the screams of the truck driver. The truck groaned and screeched, the metal bending over the side.

“Agh!” He groaned, his limbs straining. The truck was heavy, and he could feel the webbing slipping slightly through his fingers. At the thought of the vehicle going over the edge, though, he held fast.

With one last effort Peter heaved with all his might, his back wrenching with the effort. “Come  _ on!” _

Slowly, the front wheels made their way back onto the bridge.

Peter let out a relieved breath and dropped the webbing. He didn’t let himself stop for long, though -- it looked like there was still a chance of the truck slipping forwards again on the wet pavement. He needed to secure it.

Peter dropped down quickly in front of the truck.

_ “Help!”  _ a voice cried from the cab.

“Just stay calm in there, buddy!” Peter yelled as he strung webs all around the truck, securing it to the bridge. His spider sense was calming down a bit, and he figured it should be stable. Now he needed to get that man out. 

He yanked the door off the truck and flung it down towards the river. “You all right, sir?” he asked. 

Peter didn’t wait for more than a nod before he grabbed the man under his arms and pulled him out.

One short swing and they were standing on solid bridge. “Here’s your stop!” he released the driver.

“Oh my god, thank you!” The man took a fumbling step in relief.

Peter put out his arm to steady him. “Careful now, don’t want to have to catch you again!”

“Ha -- holy shit -- thanks, Spider-man.”

“No problem.” He turned away and webbed the bridge support, giving the man one last wave before pulling himself off the ground. “Drive safe!”

* * *

Peter showed up to the office a soaking wet mess. His socks squelched in his shoes as he walked towards his desk, and he was met with a few curious glances. 

“Jesus Peter,” Toby laughed as Peter passed him to sit at his desk. “What, did you trip and fall into the gutter on the way here?” 

“Something like that,” Peter said, brushing it off with his own chuckle. “I’ve got a change of clothes here though, thankfully.” 

Toby nodded. “Smart. But I’ve got one word for you: raincoat.” 

Peter just rolled his eyes, and was pushing his wet hair out of his face when he got a call on his cell. When he checked the caller ID, he was surprised. 

“Harry?” Peter said into the phone. 

_ “Hey, Pete,”  _ Harry Osborn said, sounding amused.  _ “You sound so surprised.”  _

Peter snorted. “Maybe because you never call. It’s good to hear from you, though.” He squinted at the time. “Wait a second… isn’t it like, five AM in California? Why are you calling so early?” 

Harry was living in Los Angeles, working for some big tech company. They hadn’t seen each other since graduation, but they did talk once in a while. Neither of them were very good at keeping up with people, so Peter never blamed him for it. Some friends you didn’t need to talk with all the time. 

_ “Good to talk to you too,”  _ Harry replied.  _ “I just… I don’t know, I got up early this morning. I’m walking to the gym now. Thought I’d call you.”  _

“Uh… okay. Is --  _ is _ everything okay?” 

_ “Yeah, everything’s fine. Geez. What, a guy can’t call his friend out of the blue for a wholesome chat?”  _

Peter huffed a laugh. “I mean, he  _ can _ , but most people aren’t dedicated enough for pre-sunrise calls.” He paused. “So, what’s on your mind? Did you finally clone Elon Musk?” 

_ “Not quite,”  _ Harry said, sounding more amused.  _ “But we’re working on it.”  _ He paused.  _ “Uh, how’s -- how’s MJ? The two of you still getting along in that tiny apartment?”  _

“We’re good,” Peter replied distractedly, leaning forwards in his chair in an attempt to keep water from dripping on it. “She’s been feeling kinda stuck in her job, I think, but you know her -- I’m sure she’ll assert her dominance soon enough.” 

Harry snorted.  _ “I’m sure you’d know more about that than me, dude.”  _

“Oh, shut up,” Peter said, rolling his eyes. Then he caught sight of Dr. Aziz turning around the corner towards their desks. “Right, well -- sorry but I can’t really talk more right now, I’m kind of at work,” he said quickly. “Wanna chat later?” 

_ “Sure, man,”  _ Harry said, though he sounded noncommittal.

“I’ll call you tonight,” Peter told him. “I’ll get MJ on the line, too.” 

_ “Sure,”  _ Harry said again.  _ “Talk to you later, Pete.” _

“Bye,” Peter said quickly, before hanging up and tossing his phone on the desk. He was standing up to get his change of clothes when Dr. Aziz appeared in front of him. 

The man looked torn between annoyance and amusement as he looked Peter up and down. “Do you not own a raincoat, Peter? You’re soaking.” 

“I’ve been asking him the same thing,” Toby said over his shoulder. 

Peter opened one of the drawers on his desk and pulled out his clothes. “Yeah, leant my raincoat to a friend recently,” he lied. “Haven’t seen it since.” 

“Okay,” Dr. Aziz said, tucking his hands into his lab coat pockets. “Well, once you’re actually ready to go and not chatting on the phone or changing out of wet clothes, I have some work for you to do.” 

“Sorry,” Peter said, feeling embarrassed. “I’ll be over in a second.” 

“Right,” Dr. Aziz said. With one last glance between Peter and Toby, he turned around and left the room. 

Peter let out a little groan as soon as he was out of sight. 

“Smooth moves, Peter,” Toby said, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah, I’m known for those,” Peter replied wearily. “Just -- wait for me, okay? I’ll be like two seconds.” 

Toby shrugged and turned back to his computer. “Sure man, sure.” 

Peter pushed down on the shame rising in his chest and went to change, hoping the day would get better from there. 

* * *

But truthfully the day didn’t get better from there. Their tests went poorly again, and Peter and Toby were forced to dive back into the code. With all of these missteps, they were falling behind schedule, and it was obvious that Dr. Aziz was getting a little anxious about it. As it was, they had only two days before the next inter-branch meeting, where they were supposed to present their progress. Hopefully they’d be able to move past these problems by then, but it wasn’t going to be easy. 

The day was so draining that Peter didn’t even feel like patrolling after work -- he took the train home, instead. The rattle on tracks and the rush of the view through the window had always been relaxing to him. 

At least the night was fun, though. MJ attempted to cook veggie lasagna, which turned out pretty decently, actually. And Peter got Harry back on the phone to talk while they ate. Peter thought his friend looked tired but generally well, and it was always fun to chat with him about random stuff. 

“Do you remember when you two got locked out of the dorms?” MJ was saying, a wide smile on her face.

Peter laughed around a mouthful of lasagna. “And you didn’t let us stay with you.” 

_ “We had to sleep in the park!”  _ Harry chuckled.  _ “Thank god we were drunk enough not to care.”  _

“And you wondered why I wouldn’t let you sleep on my floor,” MJ said, rolling her eyes. “Better to have you vomiting in the bushes than on my rug.” 

Peter rubbed a hand over his face in embarrassment. “I was so confused when I woke up.” MJ laughed at him. “I swear, it was traumatizing. I’ve never been so drunk since.” 

_ “Well, it was more traumatizing for me. I had to take a test the next day.”  _

“I have no idea how you two made it through that semester,” MJ said, shaking her head in amusement. 

_ “Come on,”  _ Harry said with a grin.  _ “Can you really say you went to college if you weren’t an alcoholic for a while?”  _

Peter snorted. “That is so dark.” 

“How’s the nightlife in LA?” MJ asked. 

“Yeah,” Peter added. “You met any celebrities yet?” 

_ “I saw Snoop Dog the other night,”  _ Harry said with a smirk. 

“No you didn’t!” Peter shot back. “Shut up, dude.” 

_ “I’m serious!”  _

MJ took a bite of lasagna. “What’s the big deal? Famous people live here, too. There’s nothing exciting about it.” 

“First of all,  _ Snoop Dog,”  _ Peter said, because that was explanation enough. “But also, I don’t know -- I feel like famous people who live in LA just have this  _ sheen _ , you know? As soon as they move to New York, they get all scruffy.” 

MJ covered her mouth with her hand and laughed suddenly. 

“What?” said Peter. 

“No… ha, I was just thinking Stark would love to hear that New York made him  _ scruffy.”  _

Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh, my god. Wait, that’s perfect -- he so proves my point! Are you serious?”

_ “He does live on a farm now,”  _ Harry reasoned, amused. 

Peter laughed. “So, when are you gonna come back to the city and be scruffy with us?” he asked Harry. “Or are you gonna stay in LA forever?” 

_ “I don’t know, man. My dad’s still trying to get me to work for him, obviously, so I could always do that. It’s pretty nice being away from him, though.”  _

“Yeah, wasn’t that the main selling point of LA?” MJ said. 

Harry shrugged.  _ “Pretty much.”  _

“Well, we miss you,” Peter said. “But I cannot say I blame you there.” 

_ “We’ll see what ends up happening, I guess.”  _

Peter stuffed the last bit of lasagna on his plate into his mouth. “Indeed.” 

Harry coughed.  _ “Well, I gotta go, actually. I’m getting dinner with someone.”  _

“Ooh,” Peter said. “A lady friend?” 

“A ‘lady friend’?” MJ echoed incredulously. 

_ “It is a lady friend,”  _ Harry said with a smile. 

“Best of luck then, compadre,” Peter told him. 

Harry nodded.  _ “Thanks, Pete. I’ll talk to you guys soon.” _

“Bye, Harry.” 

_ “Bye.”  _

“Bye!” 

After Harry hung up, MJ elbowed Peter in the rib. “If you  _ ever  _ describe me as a lady friend, Peter, I swear to god…” 

“What?” Peter said innocently, standing up to put his plate in the sink. “Should I not have been doing that? Because I’ve been doing that.”

“You are the worst,” MJ said with a grin, standing up as well. 

Peter quirked an eyebrow. “The worst, huh?” He reached for her waist, pulling her in. “Is that what you think?” 

MJ looked up at him, suppressing a smile. “That’s right.” 

“Well, maybe I should change your mind,” he smirked. He moved one hand up to cup her face and leaned in to kiss her. 

Michelle kissed him back, pressing close to him. Then she pulled away and whispered in his ear, “That all you got, Spider-Man?” 

Peter grinned and kissed her again, and it wasn’t long before they’d left the kitchen behind. The dishes could wait until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know things aren't really happening yet, but set up is important, y'all! 
> 
> A couple notes:   
> 1) A couple of lines of MJ and Peter interacting when they're waking up are from the comics! (ASM 2018 no. 2: https://readcomiconline.to/Comic/The-Amazing-Spider-Man-2018/Issue-2?id=137542)  
> 2) The scene of Spidey saving that guy on a bridge is inspired by the comics, and directly lifted from my other work, Another Day in the Neighborhood. It's not plagiarizing if it's from myself, right?


	4. Chapter 4

Thursday night, Peter walked back into the apartment after work to find MJ slipping into a nice dark purple dress. 

“Hey,” he said as he stepped up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. 

MJ twisted to look over her shoulder. “Hey, yourself. Could you help me with this zipper?” 

Peter located the small tag and zipped the dress up. MJ straightened out the dress and turned around to face him. He pulled her close and looked down at her, smirking softly. “Quite a dress. What, do you have somewhere to be? A hot date, maybe?” 

“I do, actually,” MJ replied, playing along. 

“Oh, really? Who’s the guy?” Peter asked.

MJ slowly wrapped her arms around his waist, shrugging. “Oh, you know. Just a guy. Nothing special about him, really. He’s a bit of a nerd; likes wearing spandex.”

“Sounds boring,” Peter said. “Maybe you should ditch him and go to the party with me.”

MJ pouted her lip in consideration. “Hmm, okay. You know, it’s crazy, though — you look so alike.”

“Weird.” Peter laughed and gave her a kiss. “You look amazing, by the way.” 

She blushed a little, and smiled up at him. “Thanks, handsome.” 

He smiled back. “Does this mean I have to pull out the jacket and tie?” 

“Yup. And we gotta be out of here soon if we’re gonna be less than an hour late to this thing.” 

Peter cringed a little. “Yeah, sorry. But it actually wasn’t Spider-Man this time -- there was a meeting that ran long.” 

“Don’t worry about it -- just get dressed.” 

“As you wish,” he said, casting her a playful solute. 

After rooting his jacket and a tie out of the closet, Peter brushed his hair flat and met MJ at the front door. Time to socialize. 

* * *

The party was great, of course. Peter didn’t know how they did it, but the  _ Chronicle _ always threw the best parties. He assumed it was part of their attempts to get money from rich donors in the city. 

There were tables set up, a buffet of food, an open bar, and even a little band playing in the corner. Honestly, very classy. 

They stopped by the bar first to get drinks, and mingled for a bit before MJ went over to talk to a friend of hers while Peter walked over to the buffet. 

He was considering whether he should get shrimp or chicken when a figure stepped up beside him. Peter looked up to see a tall, good looking guy with dirty blonde hair likewise looking into the serving trays. 

“Good selection, right?” Peter said, and John Jameson looked over, eyebrows raised. “I mean, I think I see sushi over there.” 

“Hey,” John said with a smile, reaching out a hand. “It’s Peter, right? Michelle’s boyfriend?”

Peter grabbed his outstretched hand and gave it a shake. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said. “Peter Parker.”

“Right,” John nodded. “How’re you doing then, Peter?”

Peter shrugged. “Pretty good, I guess. But you know how it goes.” 

“Sure do,” he agreed, reaching over to pick up a small plate. “Where are you working these days?” 

“Um, Darcorps. It’s a bio-engineering company. We work on surgical robots.” 

“Okay, cool,” John said. Then he shook his head, looking tired. “I’ve been spending all day researching those murders in Queens. Not an easy topic. You hear about that?”

“Yeah,” Peter said grimly. “I did. It’s horrible.”

John shook his head and glanced off to the right. “I’m already hearing people trying to say that they’re connected. I don’t know if I believe that, though.” 

Peter frowned. “Connected? Don’t -- don’t they have to be connected? I mean… they were found in the same place.” 

“What?” John looked at him. “Oh, wait… you didn’t know? There was another murder last night, not too far away from the first place. I guess… sorry, I get wrapped up in this stuff, and I forget. It’ll probably be reported tomorrow.” 

“Really?” That didn’t sound good. He’d need to look that up later. 

“Yeah, it was an older lady -- Hannah Fischer, I think her name is.” 

“But you don’t think they’re connected?” Peter asked. 

John let out a sharp breath and started loading his plate with beef and spring rolls. “I don’t know, honestly. I’m not gonna make a guess when I haven’t even gotten to see all the facts. Personally, I’m not one to jump on the crazed killer bandwagon. There’s a lotta ways for someone to die in this city,” he said wryly. “I’m going in to look at the police report tomorrow, though.” 

Peter nodded. “Fair enough,” he said lightly, though silently his mind was turning over the new information. 

“Yeah. Uh, look,” John said, shifting and glancing away again. “Sorry to dump my problems and leave, but I, uh -- I gotta go find my date. But it’s good seeing you, Peter.” 

“Yeah,” Peter replied with a tight smile. “See you around, I guess.” 

John flashed him a returning smile before turning away and heading for the tables in the corner.

Peter grabbed a plate for himself and filled it up with rice and shrimp. He stood awkwardly alone for a moment while he looked around for MJ, taking bites of shrimp as he did. 

He supposed John seemed like a nice guy. He certainly couldn’t help it if his father was one of the least credible newsmen in the country. Maybe that’s what had driven him to the  _ Chronicle.  _

Also, he couldn’t help but be pettily glad that John had come with a date. Not that he didn’t trust his manly charm to keep MJ by his side, but the guy was annoyingly good looking.

Speaking of MJ, Peter felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to see Michelle. 

“Hey. You talked to John?” she asked, looking over towards where the man in question had gone. 

“Yeah, I did,” Peter replied, popping another shrimp in his mouth. “Seems like a nice guy.” 

MJ smiled. “See, what did I tell you? He’s nothing like his dad.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. I’m surprised, though. You’d think Jameson would have rubbed off on him more.” 

“John’s only been writing for a year and he’s already done better work than his dad.” 

Peter raised an eyebrow at her. “You sure I don’t have anything to worry about with him?” 

MJ shook her head at him, amused. “What? Tell me, who am I dating again?” 

“Me?” 

“Wow, do I hear uncertainty there? Maybe I  _ am  _ dating John and I didn’t even know it.” 

Peter chuckled, then said with more confidence, “You’re dating  _ me.”  _

“There we go.” MJ grabbed the plate out of his hand and put it on the nearest surface before she pulled him along. “Okay -- come on, Pete. I’m gonna show you a good time. You don’t know the best parts of this place.”

Peter chuckled as she brought him down the hall, occasionally stopping and showing him various paintings. He tried his best to look like he understood what she was saying, although MJ elbowed him the fourth time he said, “Fascinating,” so she probably saw right through him. 

Peter followed MJ into the next room. It was a relatively small space, and there were no other people there. Light from the street filtered in softly from a little window. 

His eyes were drawn immediately to the big painting on the wall; the only painting in the room. It looked like it was in the same style as the other ones MJ had just showed him — soft pastel colors and short brush strokes. The scene looked like a cliff overlooking the sea, with wildflowers dotting the grass and the sun setting on the horizon. 

MJ grabbed his hand and brought him to the center of the room. They looked at the painting in silence for a moment before she said softly, “I think this might be my favorite painting here.”

Peter glanced at her. “Really?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I don’t even think it’s about how good it is, but just… how it makes me feel. And how this room makes me feel.” 

MJ turned so she was facing Peter, and he did the same. Then she leaned in and kissed him sweetly, her arms wrapping around his waist. 

When she pulled back, Peter smiled down at her. “Well, if it makes you feel like  _ that _ , I think it might be my favorite, too,” he said. 

He expected MJ to laugh at that, but for some reason she just looked at him, her expression a bit sad. 

Peter reached up, frowning, and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “You okay? What’s on your mind?”

He saw her shake off her thoughts and push a smile onto her face. “Nothing,” she said quickly. She pulled him close and Peter lost sight of her expression as her chin ended up on his shoulder. 

He squeezed her tight, trying to convey just how much he loved her.

When MJ pulled back again, her face was more settled. “Let’s go back to the party,” she said. “I think they’re putting out dessert soon.” 

Peter nodded. “Yeah, sure.” 

They walked back through the narrow halls to the party, the noise of it getting louder as they got closer. 

As they stepped back into the room, though, Peter frowned. A couple people were still dancing and eating, but others were talking quietly in small groups, their faces tense. 

“I think something’s going on,” Peter said to MJ. He reached for his pocket to check his phone. 

MJ was quicker than him, though. She was already reading tweets. “There’s some kind of attack happening in Midtown,” she said, scrolling. “No one seems to know who it is, though.” 

Sounded like something Spider-Man was needed for. Peter pulled MJ quickly towards the door. “I’m gonna go check it out,” he said to her, squeezing her hand. “I’ll see you back at home.”

Peter took off down the hall towards the exit. As he went, he looked over his shoulder for one last glance at MJ. He saw her silhouetted alone in the doorway, her phone in her hand at her side and her face grim as she looked after him.

Then he reached the door and exited into the night. 

* * *

One quick change in the nearest alley later, and he was soaring through the dark streets towards midtown. 

“Karen, talk to me,” Peter said, using the word sequence to activate the AI. After being Spider-Man for so long, he felt like sometimes Karen could be more of a hindrance than a help. So, most of the time he went without her. But in situations like this, where he knew nothing, she could be very useful. 

_ “Hello, Peter,”  _ Karen said happily.  _ “Reports of an attacker near Columbus Park. He appears to be supernaturally strong.” _

“Right,” Peter said, speeding towards the Brooklyn Bridge. “Got it. What’s he up to?” 

_ “It’s unclear. But it looks like he’s headed towards a bank on Bowery.”  _

Peter nodded. “So, he’s looking for cash. Not exactly original.” 

_ “Not at all,”  _ Karen agreed. 

The rush of flying through the air at top speed, flinging himself from one building to the next, never got old. Even as he knew there was danger ahead, Peter felt his heart soar. There was no place he felt so capable as this. 

Before he knew it he was over the Brooklyn Bridge and headed for the Bowery. He didn’t have to search long. In fact, Peter swung right into the thick of it. 

His spider-sense screamed as he crossed through an intersection, and he dodged just in time for a huge chunk of cement to miss his head. 

Peter spun, Karen helping him pinpoint where the attacker was. A huge man was down on the street, pummeling the side of a building and roaring at the top of his lungs. The street around him was cleared of people. 

“Who is this guy?” Peter asked Karen. 

_ “His likeness appears in no accessible database,”  _ she replied helpfully.  _ “This is his first recorded appearance.”  _

“Hm,” Peter said as he swung closer. “I wonder if we’ll get to name him. Or if he’s already named himself.”

The man was tall and wide, with huge fists that didn’t seem bothered with the task of destroying a wall. When he spotted Peter coming closer, he picked up a piece of rubble and hurled it at him. 

Peter dodged it easily. “Time to relax, big guy!” he yelled, aiming his webs. One shot had the man’s fist stuck to the brick. 

He landed in a crouch and looked the wall over. The guy’s last punch had blasted a hole through to the inside of the bank. 

“Wow. You did all this?” Peter said. “That was some tantrum.” 

“Spider-Man,” the man growled, teeth bared as he pulled against the webbing. “I was hoping I’d see you.” 

Peter cocked his head, stepping closer. “Did you also hope you’d go to jail, Ironsides? ‘Cause if so, I have some great news.” 

“Not likely, punk,” the man said. “And it’s  _ Sledgehammer _ , not Ironsides.” 

Peter considered that. “I’ve heard worse,” he decided.

The flash of warning in the back of his neck had him confused, but then the Sledgehammer’s fist suddenly broke through the webbing, pulled away from the wall, and headed straight for his face. 

Peter dodged it only enough that the blow didn’t break his nose. He flew backwards, landing on his back, his head ringing painfully. He was surprised his eyepiece didn’t crack. 

He didn’t have long to reset, though, because the Sledgehammer was running full tilt at him like a battering ram. 

“Whoa!” Peter gasped, rolling to the left Sledgehammer roared past him.

As he pushed himself to his feet, Peter spotted a light out of the corner of his eye. Something bright and orange, and getting closer by the second. He squinted distractedly in that direction, and muttered, “Is that…?” 

The Sledgehammer interrupted his thoughts as he turned around and sprinted back, his hand outstretched. But this time, he missed Peter and burst right into the bank. 

Before Peter could follow after him, the orange thing landed next to him in a burst of flame. Without even looking over, Peter knew who it was. 

“Hey, Torch,” he said. “Come to join the party?” 

“Yeah,” Johnny said a grin. “I brought the sparklers.” He held out one firey hand. 

Peter nodded. “Well, just try not to cause too much damage.” 

Johnny scowled. “You wanna stand here all day and talk about it? Or do you wanna fight this guy?” 

“Touche,” Peter replied, and followed Johnny through the hole and into the bank. 

It was a nice, old fashioned place, with tall ceilings, stone floors, and a big crystal chandelier on the ceiling. Thankfully the workers who had been inside were already fleeing out the front door, and Peter didn’t see any stragglers. 

“Oh, there he is,” Peter said, jumping towards the back of the room.

“He got a name?” Johnny asked. 

“The Sledgehammer, apparently.” 

Johnny cringed, and then frowned, as if considering. “Could be a lot worse,” he said. 

“Exactly,” Peter agreed. 

The Sledgehammer was trying to break his way into the back vault with some success. The steel door was dented in the center from the first impact, and now the thief was attempting to break the hinges.

“You know, you could do with some more subtlety,” Peter commented, stepping up closer to the offender. “A lot of bank robbers try to wear black, for example.” 

“Yeah, where’d you get that outfit? Party City?” 

The Sledgehammer growled before lifting his fists and slamming them into the marble floors. The shockwave of the blow left Johnny stumbling, shook the crystal chandelier, and shattered a skylight. 

“Alright,” Peter said, dodging falling glass before shooting a web to the ceiling and swinging feet first. “That’s enough property damage for now, big guy.” 

When his feet connected with Sledgehammer’s chest, the man stumbled back, but wasn’t unsteady for long. 

As Sledgehammer prepared to barrel forwards again, Peter called out, “Johnny -- help me corner him!”

“Got it!” Johnny replied, and rose a wall of fire between Peter and Sledgehammer. 

Sledgehammer, who had begun to race forwards towards Peter, skidded to a stop and cried out at the heat. The chandelier rattled again. 

“Nice!” Peter said. “Keep it up!” 

He leapt over the wall of flame and landed on Sledgehammer’s shoulders. The man roared again, and reached up to pull him off. 

Peter aimed at one of his hands and shot a stream of webbing at it. Before he could do any more, however, the Sledgehammer snapped his arm, yanking Peter off his shoulders and slamming him down towards the fire. Johnny moved the flames back just in time. 

Peter was on his feet quickly, and shot another web at the ceiling next to the chandelier. Then he jumped forwards, slamming the web into the Sledgehammer’s side and wrapping around him like a pole. 

“That’s it!” Johnny said, pushing the flames in close so that Sledgehammer couldn’t move. “You got him!” 

Peter kept sending webs forwards even as the Sledgehammer fought against them wildly, roaring, “No! No! You can’t tie me down! I am the Sledgehammer!” 

“You are as smart as a bag of rocks,” Johnny shot back. 

With a huge pull, Peter heaved the Sledgehammer off the ground until he hovered a good ten feet up, wrapped tight in webbing. He struggled, but without something to brace against, he couldn’t break free. One last bit of webbing kept him quiet, too. 

“Right on!” Johnny said, letting the flames fall. 

Peter settled next to him on the ground. He felt tired, but good, as he looked at the swinging Sledgehammer. And relieved that after all that, no civilians had gotten hurt. 

He looked over at Johnny with a grin. “Thanks for the assist, Torch.”

Johnny crossed his arms over his chest, and shrugged. “No problem.” 

Beside them, the chandelier groaned again, finally gave way, and crashed heavily to the floor. 

Peter held up a hand to block the spray of glass. “I think that’s our cue to leave,” he said. 

Johnny snorted. “Right. Hey, you wanna come over for dinner? Haven’t seen you out of costume in a while. I think Sue’s making tacos,” he added temptingly.

Peter smiled. “Oh, you know I can’t turn that down. I’ll be there.” 

“Nice,” Johnny grinned. “Bring MJ along too, if you want.” 

Peter sent a stream of webbing onto the ceiling next to the broken skylight. “Good deal. See you later,” he said, and yanked himself off the ground. He didn’t grab onto the ceiling but instead propelled himself through the open window, flipping through the air into the predawn sky. 

Below him, a flame ignited before it rushed past him in a blaze of heat. 

A final wave and Peter was swinging again, headed through the streets and back home. 


	5. Chapter 5

Peter crawled in through his window before he pulled off his mask with a sigh, trying to force the tension from the night off his shoulders. He felt sore all over and dead tired, and it didn’t make him feel better to know he’d have to be at work in a few hours. The sun was coming up slowly behind him. 

A noise to his right made his head snap up, but he immediately relaxed when he saw who it was. 

“MJ,” Peter said. “Hey.” 

“Hey yourself,” MJ said. She was holding a cup of coffee in her hands, and already looked dressed for the day. “How’d things go?” 

Peter rolled his shoulders and yawned, shifting where he stood. “Not my cleanest fight, but it’s taken care of. Hopefully I won’t have to deal with that guy again for a while.” 

MJ nodded, and then she stepped forward, looking concerned. “Peter, your face,” She reached out a hand, but Peter raised his own first, trying to feel for any injuries. 

“What is it?” he said. “Am I bleeding?” 

MJ drew her hand back, shaking her head. “You’ve got a huge black eye.” 

Sure enough, when Peter probed his left eye it was tender enough to make him hiss. “Ugh, great,” he muttered. “How am I gonna explain this one?” 

“Well, it happens often enough,” MJ said, suddenly short. “Don’t you have a million excuses cooked up and ready?” 

Peter paused, lowering his arm. Something in MJ’s voice was off. “You okay?” he asked, looking her over carefully. She looked tense and angry. “Did something happen?” 

MJ sighed and leaned back against the refrigerator, frowning at the ground, her jaw clenched. She was quiet for a moment before replying tersely, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just -- my dad called last night.” 

Oh, that’d explain it. “What did he want?” he asked. 

She met Peter’s eyes, looking frustrated. “He’s out of money again,” she said simply. 

“Oh,” Peter said. 

“Yup,” MJ said, her lips popping on the ‘p’. 

Peter shifted on his feet uncertainly. He’d never been good at navigating these conversations about her dad, and it didn’t help that he’d been up all night. “Are you… gonna send him anything?” he asked. 

Michelle frowned at him. “No.” 

“Okay,” Peter said quickly. “Just -- just wondering.” 

“At this point, he can fend for himself,” MJ said shortly, pushing off the fridge and turning so her back was to Peter.

“Okay,” Peter said again. “I mean, whatever you think is best.” 

Michelle shot him another look over her shoulder. “What does that mean?” 

Peter blinked. “I just -- you know, I just want to support you here. You’re the one that’s had to put up with your dad forever. So… yeah.” 

MJ turned around, eyebrow raised but her features softening with amusement. 

Peter rubbed the back of his neck abashedly. “Sorry, that wasn’t really coherent. My brain’s not exactly firing on all cylinders right now. But… you know what I mean. Hopefully.” 

“Yeah,” MJ said with a sigh. “It’s okay. I never know if I’m doing the right thing when it comes to my dad, so it’s not like I expect you to know.” 

Peter bit at the inside of his cheek. 

“I, uh -- I gotta go to work, actually. I’ve got an early meeting today.” MJ walked up to him and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

Peter nodded and gave her a little smile. “Okay. Let me know if you want me to pick something up for dinner.” 

MJ nodded, grabbed her things, and headed out the door. 

As soon as the lock clicked behind her, Peter let out a groan, wiping his hands over his face. “Great job there, Pete,” he muttered bitterly to himself. “Real smooth.” 

He hated not being able to better support MJ with stuff like that. But when it came to her dad, he never knew how to talk to her. Whatever he said usually ended up being wrong. At least this time she’d kissed him before she left. 

Peter sauntered over to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror, grimacing when he saw how haggard he looked. He gently probed his eye again and considered putting makeup over it. After a second, though, he reconsidered. He’d done that in the past, but only with MJ’s help. If he tried on his own he’d probably end up looking even worse. 

He stripped himself of his dirty suit before laying down on the bed. It was still early, and as he looked at the clock he felt his eyelids droop heavily. Surely he could shut his eyes for a minute or two. That wouldn’t make a difference. He’d get going in a minute….

* * *

Peter came awake suddenly, feeling as though he had forgotten something important. 

When he saw the angle of the sun coming through the window, he knew exactly what that something was, and let out a long groan. It was nearly noon.

“Shit,” he cursed. “I am the _worst.”_

Peter considered his options. He still needed to take a shower, since he’d been too tired to do that when he’d gotten home that morning. Best case scenario, he’d be at work in an hour. 

He groaned again, and reached out to find his phone. There was no doing, really. He’d have to call in sick again. 

Peter sent a quick text off to Dr. Aziz that he hoped would be enough to explain his absence, and jumped in the shower to cleanse himself of his sins. He’d really taken too many days off recently. He hoped Aziz’s patience continued to hold out. 

This was why he’d had such a hard time holding onto jobs in the past. It was hard to juggle when being Spider-Man was already a full-time job. He didn’t really blame his past employers for sending him packing. He just hoped Aziz wouldn’t be too upset with him. 

And when he checked his messages after getting out of the shower, Aziz did seem sympathetic. He probably thought Peter had some sort of chronic condition, with the number of times he’d called in sick in the past few months. 

At least tomorrow was a Saturday, and he wouldn’t have to worry about showing up for work for a few days. 

Instead of stewing over it, Peter sent a text to MJ asking her if she wanted to come with him to the Baxter Building for dinner. He didn’t think she had any plans, but he wanted to make sure. Plus, he could swing and pick her up on the way. 

She agreed, and a few hours later Peter was in the suit, swinging over to get her. 

MJ was standing on the roof of her building, and waved to Peter when he got near. He flipped and landed next to her. 

“Hey,” she said, smiling. “You seem more awake than I expected after last night. They start giving you coffee at work?”

“Ah,” Peter said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, I didn’t actually get into work today. I accidentally fell asleep this morning.” 

MJ’s smile fell into a look of exasperation. “Peter, if you keep missing days you’re gonna get fired.” 

“I know, I know. My boss doesn’t seem mad, though.” 

MJ just shook her head. “I’m not gonna lecture you, because I’m not your mother.”

“I don’t need to be lectured,” Peter shot back, a little frustrated now. “I know it was dumb.” 

“Good,” MJ said. She stepped closer to him, and put her hands on his arms, a soft smile coming onto her face. “Sorry. I just don’t want to see you lose that job. I know how much you love it.” 

Peter let out a breath. “Yeah. You ready for tacos?” 

“I am _so_ ready for tacos.” 

He wrapped an arm around her tightly, and she put her arms around his neck. “Let’s go, then!” he said with a smile, and they jumped off the roof. MJ’s hair streamed behind her. 

* * *

They made it to the Baxter Building not too much later, and Peter changed into the clothes that he had brought before they went upstairs. The Fantastic Four lived together on the top floor of the building. 

“Pete!” a rumbling voice greeted as they stepped through the door, and Peter was embraced by two massive, rocky arms. “Good to see ya, kid!” 

“Lookin’ good, Ben,” Peter replied, grinning. 

“You’ve got a nice shiner there. Courtesy of the Sledgehammer?”

Peter chuckled and rubbed the back of his head, shooting MJ a glance. “Ha, yeah.”

”Nice. Hey, everybody, Peter’s here!” Ben turned and called out. “Him and MJ!” He waved at MJ. “Hey, MJ.” 

“Hey,” Michelle said, smiling back at him. She’d come to dinner at the Baxter Building with Peter a few times before.

Reed Richards came around the corner, wearing a turtleneck sweater and jeans. “Hey, guys!” he greeted, reaching out to shake Peter’s hand. “Good to see you!” 

Sue Storm was right behind him, looking beautiful as always. She gave Peter and MJ a hug each. “Johnny’s in the kitchen,” she told them. “I just broke out the chips and guac, so you better get in there before he finishes it.” 

Peter walked the familiar path to the kitchen, passing through the open main living space as he went. The Baxter Building was a huge place, and the floor where the Fantastic Four lived was no less fancy than the rest of it. Modern furniture filled the space, complete with sculptures and potted plants. It looked bright and sophisticated, but was still lived in. 

The kitchen was large as well, with shiny countertops and a wide wall of windows. Johnny was standing at the island, shoving chips in his mouth. “Peter!” he called around the mouthful of food. “MJ!” 

Peter hugged him quickly before turning to grab some chips and guac for himself. “Hey, Sparky. You leave any for the rest of us?”

“Not likely,” Johnny scoffed. “Who do you think I am?” 

“You two want something to drink?” Ben asked. “I fixed up some margaritas.” 

“Very on theme,” MJ said, nodding. “Sounds good to me.” 

Ben grinned and poured both of them a glass. MJ took hers and went to go see if Sue needed help cooking, while Peter elbowed Johnny out of the way for more chips.

Reed took a seat at a stool on the other side of the island and stretched his arm to get some chips. “What have you been up to lately, Peter?” 

Peter shrugged. “Not much, honestly. Since Venom was put away things have been pretty calm here.” 

“Yeah, we’ve noticed that,” Ben said. “It’s been nice.” 

“Totally,” Peter agreed. “By the way, did he ever get carted off to the Raft?” 

Reed and Ben shared a glance. “He’s still in the building, actually,” Reed said. 

Peter raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“Reed, you should show him the set up we’ve got him in,” Johnny said, refilling his glass. “It’s pretty sweet.” 

“Would you like that, Peter?” Reed asked. “I can take you down after dinner.” 

Peter nodded. “Yeah, for sure. How are you keeping him contained?” 

“Well, actually Venom has been a very interesting subject to study. I had to configure --” 

Sue broke in, carrying a tray of food towards the table. “No, no --” she said. “No science talk during dinner, boys.”

“Yeah,” Ben rumbled. “Keep it simple enough that even Johnny can follow what you’re saying.” 

“You callin’ me stupid, brick head?” Johnny ribbed. 

“I ain’t calling you sharp.” 

“MJ,” Sue called, putting food down on the table. “I’m saving you a seat next to me!” 

MJ had walked up next to Peter, but she flashed Sue a smile before wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“Ew,” Ben said, shaking his head. “You two are too cute together.”

Peter smiled down at MJ. None of her stress from earlier hung over her at all. “I’ve always thought she was pretty great.” 

MJ smiled back sweetly. “And I’ve always thought you were pretty terrible. And yet here we are.” 

Johnny snorted. “You two really do belong together.” 

“Somebody’s got to keep my ego down,” Peter said, and pressed a quick kiss to MJ’s cheek. 

Sue called to them from the table. “Come sit down before the food gets cold.”

They moved over to sit down, Reed and Ben sitting at the opposite heads of the table. Sue pulled MJ down next to her and they started chatting immediately. Peter took his place next to Johnny. 

The food was amazing, of course. Sue never disappointed, especially with tacos. Plus, there was always more than enough to eat in a house full of superheros. Peter ate serving after serving as he joked with Johnny and Ben, and talked shop with Reed. 

By the time dessert rolled around, Peter was already so full he wasn’t sure he could eat any more. But who was he kidding, really. He could always eat more. 

“Hey, Johnny,” Sue said, walking back to the table from the kitchen. They had just cleared away the last of the dinner plates. “You mind heating this up?” She held up the pan of brownies. “I forgot to put them back in the oven.” 

Johnny nodded and took the pan from Sue. A few moments later the brownies were warm again, and he placed them down on the table. 

“So, Johnny,” Peter said, playing his voice to sound like a radio personality. “What’s it like being a glorified microwave?” 

Ben guffawed. 

Johnny turned to him slowly and raised his eyebrows, looking at Peter dangerously. “Do you wanna start? If you wanna start, we can start.” 

“Tell me,” Peter continued, miming his fist as a microphone. “How many brownies have you saved from the cold in your long and storied career?” 

“Okay,” Johnny said, flicking a spark at him. Peter dodged it, grinning. “You started it. Everybody, Peter started it.” 

“Oh, god,” Sue said, shaking her head. 

Ben was just chuckling. “You two are better than TV.” 

“I’d just like to bring up,” Johnny was saying loudly. “The time that Peter went camping with us.” 

Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. _Johnny,”_ he warned, pointing at him. “You better not. I swear to god, if you say what I think you’re gonna say…” 

“We had to bring bear spray, because there were bears,” Johnny continued, looking delighted. 

“You told me you would never bring this up again!” Peter said. “I mean -- do _not_ listen to him, people -- this man speaks only lies.” 

Everyone around the table was watching the two of them with amusement. 

Johnny kept on talking. “Let’s just say, Peter didn’t know there was a difference between bear spray and bug spray.” 

“Oh, no you don’t!” Peter said, pushing back his chair and rushing over to put a hand over Johnny’s mouth. “La la la, no one can hear you!” 

Johnny was grinning, fighting against Peter’s hand. He managed to dodge it and blurted, “Peter sprayed himself with bear spray!” before dissolving into laughter. 

“No!” Reed said, looking over at Peter. 

“Peter!” Sue said, sounding horrified. “That stuff’s just concentrated pepper spray!”

“I am going to kill you,” Peter said levelly to Johnny. The bastard just grinned back at him, and dodged the hand that went to shove him.

Ben snorted. “Is that why you suddenly decided to go shirtless for the rest of the trip?” 

MJ was smiling widely, looking thoroughly entertained. “Wow, Peter,” she said. “You really are the dumbest smart person I know.” 

Peter just leaned into the laughter, and put his hands on his hips. “They don’t call me ‘High-IQ-Man’ for no reason,” he said. 

“Yeah, with those kind of big brain ideas you could give Hot Head here a run for his money,” Ben said, jerking a thumb at Johnny. 

“Hey!” said Johnny indignantly. “That’s Microwave-Man to you, mister!”

MJ shook her head. “High IQ Man and Microwave Man to the rescue,” she said. 

Peter pointed at her as he walked back to his seat. “And don’t you dare forget the hyphen!” 

“Of course not,” she laughed. 

“Can Microwave-Man get some freakin’ brownies?” Johnny said to Sue. “Or should we let them get cold again, just for the fun of it?” 

* * *

Later, after they’d cleaned up, refilled their drinks, and put some music on in the living room, Reed walked up to Peter. 

“How about we go downstairs?” he said. “I’d love to show you how we’re containing Venom.” 

Peter nodded, setting his drink down on a side table. “Sure, let’s do it.” 

They took the elevator down a few flights to one of the many laboratories in the building. Peter wondered vaguely how much was in this building, and what they did with the space they had. 

Whenever he’d asked in the past, Reed had been pretty vague about it. Peter just assumed it was either highly dangerous or extremely complicated. Probably both. He knew that the Fantastic Four took on a lot of missions in space. The technology they used to get there must be in the building, and Peter was sure that it was much more advanced than whatever NASA had been cooking up recently. It didn’t really bother him that they kept secrets, though. He trusted them enough to know they weren’t developing something that would intentionally hurt people. 

When the elevator opened, Reed led him across a wide, brightly lit room. There were several doorways, but they took the one in the back right of the room. 

“Just through here,” Reed told him. 

The next space they entered was smaller, and more dimly lit. There were work tables pressed up against the walls, covered with switchboards that Peter couldn’t make sense of. And in the middle of the room sat a large glass tube, the top and bottom ringed in metal. A black blob hung suspended in the middle of the tube, unmoving. 

“That’s him,” Reed said, sounding slightly proud. 

Peter frowned, considering it. “He’s not _dead,_ is he?” 

Reed shook his head. “No, no. Just inert.”

As they walked towards it, Peter could feel a humming in the back of his head. He rubbed at his neck, trying to push the strange sensation away. “What is that?” he asked. 

“Ah,” Reed said, nodding as if he understood. “I installed dampeners, but it’d make sense that you’d pick it up with your enhanced senses.” 

Peter raised an eyebrow at him. “You gonna explain?” 

Reed chuckled. “Of course.” He looked between Peter and the tube. “It was rather simple, actually. Although the weakness makes sense, if you think about it.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Sound is absent in space, after all. This creature would have no defenses for it.” 

“Right,” Peter said. “That’s why I came to you for the sonic blaster. Thanks for that, by the way,” he added. “Sorry it got destroyed.” 

Reed waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. But yes, I started designing this just after you came to me. I figured Venom would need something more than a jail cell to keep him contained. It took some experimentation to find the correct frequency, but we got it in the end.” He gestured to the tube. “This specific frequency is pushed through the case, and it keeps the symbiote stabilized. Any less and it would be able to break free. Any more and it would be in pain.” 

Peter nodded. “That’s great. Have you learned anything new about it? Can you tell where it comes from?” 

“It’s impossible to say where it comes from. Could be anywhere across the galaxy. But I have managed to study its powers more closely.” Reed stepped closer to the case. “I’m sure you’re familiar with its ability to manipulate its shape and density.” 

Peter nodded. “Yeah, got an up close look at that.” 

“Right,” Reed continued. “But I’ve also discovered that it can transfigure itself to become different colors and textures as well. Hypothetically it could take the shape of almost anything,” he mused. “Though it doesn’t have the necessary energy to hold it for long.” 

“Whoa,” Peter said. “That could be dangerous.” 

“It could. Luckily you already captured him.” 

Peter asked, “How are you going to move him without disturbing the frequency in the case?” 

Reed shrugged. “It shouldn’t be too hard. I’m not concerned about it.” He walked around the case, looking at it from the other side. “And besides, I don’t expect SHIELD to be here anytime soon.” 

Peter chuckled. “Right. They’re a bureaucratic mess ninety percent of the time. They probably won’t come pick this thing up for a year.” 

“Not that I even think they really need to,” Reed said. “It’s more likely to remain stable here than at the Raft.” He sighed. “But some things aren’t worth fighting over. We’ll see.” 

“This is amazing though, Reed,” Peter said, stepping forwards, and then back again when the buzzing in his head was too much. “I really owe you for this one.” 

“It’s nothing,” Reed said, walking back around to stand next to Peter. “I’m sure you’ll help us out of a tight spot sometime soon. These things always seem to come back around.” 

“That they do,” Peter said, clapping him on the shoulder. “The life of a hero is never boring.” 

Reed chuckled, and they both took one last look at the tube holding Venom before he said, “Why don’t we go back upstairs. I think Johnny was talking about playing charades.” 

Peter shook his head as they walked back towards the elevators. “He always cheats at that game. I’ve told him a million times, fire writing should not be allowed.” 

Reed smiled. “Yeah, well -- when’s Johnny ever followed the rules.” 

Peter snorted. “True enough.” 

The lights on the floor shut off, the elevator doors slid closed, and they made their way back to the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: a visit from the Stark Family! But it’s not all good times ahead....
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	6. Chapter 6

“Petey!” Morgan said excitedly, running away from the car and jumping into Peter’s arms. 

Peter caught her easily and gave her a big hug. “Hey, Mo!”

“I missed you,” she said. 

“I missed you, too,” Peter told her. He put a hand on her head. “And you’re getting too big! You need to stop growing!”

Morgan just giggled. 

“Alright, alright,” Tony said, stepping forwards. “Break it up. I need my hugs, too.”

Peter set Morgan down and pulled Tony in. The older man patted him on the back with his metal hand. 

“Good to see you, Pete. Glad to see you managed to make it a month without landing in the hospital again.”

“Come on, now,” Pepper said, smiling. “Don’t jinx him.” Peter gave her a quick hug, too. Behind them, the car that dropped them off drove away. 

“So, what’s the plan?” He asked them. “I have the whole weekend free, so we can do anything you guys want.”

“What about May? And MJ? Are they free?”

“May is mostly… just not Sunday. She’s got a shift scheduled then. MJ’s pretty busy, but she told me she’ll be good for dinner every night at least.”

“Great,” Pepper smiled. “What’s first on the agenda, then?” 

Peter shrugged. “I guess… well, after your stuff’s put up we could go for lunch.” 

Tony shook his head. “I cannot believe you two are still living in this dump,” he said, looking up at the building. 

“Hey,” Peter protested, grabbing a few of their bags from the curb. “It’s not a dump. I’ll have you know it’s at least the size of three dumpsters.” 

Tony snorted. “Strong defense. But you know I would literally pay for you to live anywhere you want? Has that sunk into your head since the last time I said it?” 

Peter rolled his eyes with a smile. “No, and it’s not going to. Me and MJ can fend for ourselves, thanks very much.” 

“I like your place,” Morgan said, stepping up to stand next to Peter as they walked into the building. 

He put an arm around her. “Thanks, Mo. Glad someone’s in my corner.” 

“Sometimes it smells like fish, though,” she added with a considering expression. 

“Ah, yeah. But it only smells like that to you because you’ve grown up on that fancy  _ upstate  _ air.” 

Morgan shot him a look. “Do you  _ like  _ the smell of fish or something?” 

Peter just nodded solemnly. “Well, as a New Yorker you have to love the terrible stuff. It’s kind of a masochistic thing.”

“What does ‘mass-kiss-tick’ mean?”

“Jesus,” Tony chuckled, amused at the two of them. “Thank god we’re only spending the one night here.” 

“I’m surprised you’re even staying the one,” Peter said as they stepped into the elevator. He pushed the button for their floor. “Why don’t you just stay at the hotel the whole time?” 

“Because it’s nice to stay with you!” Pepper said with a smile. “Even if it’s a bit of a squeeze.” 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, plus it makes the hotel seem like a dream in comparison.” 

The elevator dinged and the doors opened.

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter said as they stepped out into the hall. “Go ahead and make fun of us commoners.” 

“No one who knows me is a commoner, Pete. Don’t flatter yourself.” As if proving his point, Tony gave a smile to a woman they passed in the hall who was looking at them with wide eyes.

Peter unlocked the door to his apartment and let them in. With three new people and a bunch of bags, the place felt even smaller than normal. But he had cleaned that morning in anticipation of their arrival, so at least they weren’t tripping over things. 

Morgan ran in like she owned the place and plopped down on the couch. “Dibs!” she said happily.

“You wish,” Peter teased. At Morgan’s pouting face he added, “Don’t worry, though. You don’t have to sleep on the floor this time -- we finally got a new air mattress.” 

Pepper and Tony were already putting their things in the one bedroom -- they always took the bed when they stayed there. MJ and Peter just made do with the couch for a night. 

“Peter?” Morgan said. 

He turned to face her, eyebrows raised. “Yeah? What’s up?” 

“Do you think I’ll live in the city when I grow up?” 

Peter shrugged as he dropped next to her on the couch. “I don’t know, Mo. That’s up to you.” 

Morgan looked contemplative. “I wish there was someplace that was a city and not a city, you know? Like busy like a city but… you know, pretty.” 

“Are you calling New York ugly?” Peter teased, nudging her with his elbow. 

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Come on, you know what I mean.” 

“Well, I’m sure there’s a place like that out there somewhere. Maybe you could live in a small city or something,” he suggested. 

“Talking about flying the coop already, Morguna?” Tony said as he and Pepper stepped back into the main room. “What, you don’t want to live with us forever?” 

Morgan looked a little embarrassed. “I can’t live with you forever. I mean, Peter doesn’t still live with Aunt May!” 

Tony shook his head. “Nuh-uh-uh,” he said, approaching Morgan with a smile and pulling her into a tight hug. “You’re living with us until you’re old and grey, young lady.” 

“No!” Morgan said, giggling and fighting against the hug. 

“I’m with Dad,” Pepper said. “Where else are you gonna get your tickles?” She reached in and started tickling Morgan.

Morgan started shrieking with laughter. “Ah! Help! Ha ha -- Peter, help!” 

“A maiden in distress!” Peter said, playing his voice so it sounded deep and British. “I will save you, Lady Morguna!” 

He launched into the fray, and it wasn’t a long struggle before the four of them were collapsed on the floor or the couch, still giggling. 

Peter gripped his stomach as he laughed. “Agh, my stomach,” he said. 

Tony shoved him playfully. “Up, you,” he said, a grin still wide on his face. “We need to get out of this apartment before we go crazy.” 

Morgan popped up, waving her hands over her head. Obviously she was still full of energy. “Yay! City adventure time!”

Pepper was up too, gathering her purse and her phone. “Any place in particular you think we should go for lunch, Peter?”

Peter sat up in excitement. “Oh, yeah! I’ve been going to this place a few blocks down so much lately. It’s pretty casual but the food is amazing. It’s like, Mediterranean I think.”

“Sounds good to me,” Tony said, standing and straightening out his shirt. “Let’s get a move on, then.” 

Of course, it took another ten minutes for them to leave, since everyone chose that time to declare that they had to go to the bathroom. Pepper and Tony also pulled caps and sunglasses out of their bags so they could hopefully fend off any attention. Tony covered his metal arm in a jacket and glow. But eventually they were back out on the street, walking the couple blocks to lunch. 

Tony came up to walk next to Peter, while Pepper and Morgan went ahead, Morgan chatting to her mom excitedly. 

Tony looked over at him with a scrutinizing glance. “Everything been going good lately?” he asked. 

Peter shook his head in amusement. “Yeah, Tony. And it’s not like you don’t know what’s going on in my life.”

“Sure, but talking on the phone makes it harder for me to tell if you’re lying or not.” 

“Why would I be lying?” Peter said. 

Tony shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s going on up in that head of yours. I’m just trying to make sure you’re doing okay.” 

Peter smiled at him. “I’m doing good,” he assured. “I promise. I mean… yeah, there was that thing with Venom, but honestly -- I’ve been doing better lately than I have in a while.” 

“That’s great.” Tony smiled back. 

“Yeah, I mean… I’ve got MJ, and my job, and May’s doing good. Spider-Man’s just dealing with the small things again, too, which is nice.” 

“Just the way I like it,” Tony replied, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “You deserve to take some time to focus on Peter Parker.” 

Peter caught Tony’s eyes again, feeling steady as he thought over the state of his life recently. “It does feel good,” he admitted. “I kind of feel like I have it together, you know? Like I’m a real person.” 

Tony’s expression softened, and Peter could see pride there. “I’m glad, Pete. That’s awesome.” Then the older man chuckled. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, though. You don’t need to go get married anytime soon or anything.” 

Peter couldn’t help it -- he blushed. 

He tried to turn his face away, but Tony caught it of course, and his eyes narrowed warily. “Wait… really?” he said. 

“No!” Peter said, probably too loudly. “No, we’re not -- I just -- you know, it’s not like we’ve talked about it or anything, but… I feel like we will. And -- well, I’d  _ like _ it to be her.” 

Tony looked amused. “My, my, my. Do we need to have the birds and the bees talk, Peter?” 

“Oh, shut up,” Peter rolled his eyes.

“That’s sweet, though,” Tony said encouragingly. “And I know what you mean. Just… don’t feel like you have to rush anything, you know? If you’re really meant to be with someone, it doesn’t matter when you get married. Just look at me and Pep.” 

Peter shrugged. “But like, if we’re gonna be together, we might as well get married,” he argued. 

“That’s true, I suppose,” Tony replied diplomatically. 

“It doesn’t matter right now, anyway,” Peter said quickly, blushing again. “Like I said, me and MJ haven’t even really talked about this stuff.” 

“That works for me,” Tony said, elbowing him. “The idea of you two married makes me feel all kinds of old.” 

Peter raised his eyebrows. “Oh?  _ Being _ old didn’t already make you feel old?” 

“I have a youthful spirit,” Tony said defensively, brushing off his shirt. 

“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that,” Peter teased. 

“Okay, and you keep telling yourself you’re a real adult,” Tony shot back with another little elbow nudge. 

Peter just shook his head, before looking up and realizing that they’d made it to the lunch stop. He called out for Pepper and Morgan to wait up. 

After a short stint in line they were sitting in the back of the shop, plates of delicious gyros and falafel sitting in front of them. A bowl of hummus sat in the middle to share, and Morgan had managed to charm the guy behind the counter into giving them free bread -- including a little ball of dough for her to play with. 

Luckily the place wasn’t too busy, and the people there didn’t seem to notice that Tony Stark was sitting among them.

Morgan was chatting happily about dogs as they ate. “You know, this girl Lizzie in my class — she’s got one. She brought her to school once. Her name is Cookie.”

“That’s a cute name for a dog,” Peter replied. 

“Yeah, I thought so too. Have you ever had a dog?”

Peter shook his head. “Nope. I’ve only ever lived in apartments, and they haven’t let us have pets.”

“They don’t let you?” Morgan sounded shocked. 

“Sometimes, yeah. They put it in the rules. I mean, people try and have pets anyway, but we never did. I actually did have a fish once, though.”

“Oh cool! What was his name?”

“Lucy,” Peter said. “It was one of those fish you can win at Coney Island. My uncle won it for me.”

Morgan took a bite of falafel and frowned, confused. “Your uncle?”

Peter paused and looked at her. “Yeah, my uncle Ben. You know.” 

She shook her head innocently. “I don’t think so.”

Peter could feel Tony’s eyes on him. “Huh,” he said. “Yeah, I guess… I haven’t mentioned him in a while.” He felt the familiar weight of loss on his shoulders that still hit him even after so many years. But he pushed it off with a smile at Morgan. “But yeah, he was really good at those carnival games. I wish you could have met him,” he added. “He’d have really liked you.” 

Morgan smiled at him, and then looked over at her dad. “Daddy, could you get me a fish like Petey’s uncle did?” 

Tony just raised an eyebrow and took a bite of his gyro. “If you want a fish you can go find one in the lake.”

“Okay!” Morgan said happily. “Remind me to do that when we get home.” 

“Oh, I definitely won’t.” 

Pepper reached in to get some hummus. “Mo, I think the fish in the lake belong in the lake. If you want a fish, we can talk about getting one later.” 

Morgan pouted. “You never let me get any pets!” 

“That’s unfair,” Tony said. “What about Gerald? Our actual real live alpaca?” 

“Gerald doesn’t count, he doesn’t live in the house!” 

“Wow. ‘Doesn’t count?’ I’m offended on Gerald’s behalf,” Tony said, acting affronted.

Pepper covered her face with her hand. “Oh, god. You two are ridiculous.” She looked up at Peter. “Come on, back me up here.” 

Tony scoffed. “Really? You’re gonna have  _ Peter  _ help you declare us ridiculous? Which one of us wears a skin tight suit again?” 

“I’ll remind you that you were the one who designed that originally.” 

Tony waved a hand. “Oh, let’s not bring up the past.” 

“Yeah, we better not,” Pepper said, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve got way worse ammunition than skin tight suits.” 

Peter laughed out loud at Tony, who had turned a little red in the face at the reminder of his scandalous past. “Pepper, you’re good,” he said. 

Tony just grumbled into his falafel.

* * *

After lunch, they ended up walking to a nearby park so that Morgan could burn off some energy. Peter was talked into playing with her, because he could never deny that face. He swung with her on the swings, climbed up onto the tower, and helped her across the monkey bars as Pepper and Tony watched from a bench nearby. 

“Whoa, careful!” Peter laughed as she took a large swing. 

“I can’t reach!” she said, reaching her arm out again for the next bar. “Why are they so far apart?” 

“Probably just to annoy you,” Peter said with a grin.

Morgan finally made it across and pulled herself up onto the next play structure. “Come up and slide down the slide with me!”

“No, no -- you go. I’ll meet you at the bottom.” 

Peter walked over to the bottom of the slide, and saw Tony coming up behind him. 

The older man clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks for playing with Morgan,” he said. “I think it’s time to head out, though.” 

Peter raised an eyebrow. “You can be the one to break that to her.” 

Tony huffed a laugh. “Fair enough.” 

After a little whining on Morgan’s part, they left the playground and headed on a roundabout walk back to Peter’s apartment, doing some window shopping along the way. Morgan was particularly excited by a toy store they passed, and of course they couldn’t leave without getting her something. She picked out a hot pink yo-yo, and Peter spent the rest of the walk showing her how it worked. 

By the time they made it back to Peter’s apartment, the sun was low in the sky. They walked through the door to find MJ already there, cooking dinner. 

“Emmy!” Morgan said excitedly, a grin on her face. 

MJ smiled as she walked up to them, and gave Morgan a big hug. “Hey, guys! Good to see you!”

“I see you’ve got dinner going,” Pepper said, after she and Tony had both greeted her. 

MJ shrugged. “Peter and I have been trying to learn how to cook recently."

Tony raised his eyebrows at Peter amusedly. “Really? How’s that going?” 

Peter rolled his eyes, and admitted, “It’s mostly MJ that’s learning. I just like to chop things.”

MJ walked up and took his arm. “And you’re a very good chopper,” she told him seriously. 

Morgan giggled, and walked over to the stove. “What are you making?” she asked. 

“Veggie curry. It’s so good, you’ll love it.” 

Morgan looked doubtful. “Is it spicy?” 

“Only a little bit,” Pepper assured her. 

Tony took a seat at the little table in their kitchen and crossed one leg over the other. “So what’ve you been up to lately, MJ? Anything new going on at the  _ Chronicle?”  _

MJ stepped away from Peter and back to the stove. “Not really, to be honest,” she replied, stirring the curry lazily. “I still haven’t gotten to write any pieces for myself, which is a little frustrating. I’ve been doing a lot of research and editing, mostly.” 

“What about?” Pepper asked, passing Morgan her phone to play with. Morgan took it happily and hopped up onto the couch. 

MJ shrugged. “All sorts of things. I just finished working with someone on this piece about Sierra Leone, which was interesting. And now… I’m pretty sure they’re planning on having me help out with the articles on the murders, actually.” She shot Peter a glance. 

Peter blinked. “Really? You didn’t mention that.” 

“Well, I was just told today,” she explained. 

Pepper looked over at Morgan to make sure she wasn’t paying attention before she replied. “The murders. Right, I have heard about that. Here in Queens, right?”

Michelle nodded. “Yeah.” 

“How many have there been now?” Tony asked. “Four?” 

“As of this week, yeah,” MJ told him. “At least, those are the ones the police are saying might be connected.” 

“They’re really saying that?” Pepper said, looking a little concerned. 

Tony looked at Peter. “Have you looked into this?” 

Peter shrugged. “I’ve been keeping up with it, and keeping an eye out,” he said. “But I don’t know how useful I’d really be to the police. I don’t know how to track down a killer. Not like that.”

“Right,” Pepper said. “Your fights are usually a bit more obvious.” 

MJ stirred the curry again before bringing the spoon up to taste it, a smile quirking her mouth. “It’s true, Peter. Subtlety isn’t really your strong suit.” 

“Hey!” Peter said, indignant. “I can be sneaky!” 

“In a bright red suit?” Tony teased. “Take my word for it -- those two things rarely work together.” Before Peter could reply, he added, “I guess it’s for the best you’re not involving yourself in that, anyway. You don’t want to mix yourself up with that kind of crazy.” 

“If I think I can help, I will,” Peter said. “But for now, I’m sure the police are doing a better job than I could.” 

“Let’s hope so, anyway,” MJ said darkly. Peter frowned; there was a kind of bitterness in her voice that hadn’t been there a moment before. But then she put the spoon down on the counter, and announced, “I think everything’s ready, if you guys want to eat.” 

Pepper smiled. “Great! Let me help you serve.” 

As they grabbed cups and bowls, Peter kept glancing over at MJ, wondering what had been on her mind. But when they settled down to eat MJ seemed her normal self, and Peter brushed it off easily. If something was really bothering her, she would tell him. For now, they could just relax and have fun as a family. 

* * *

The next morning, they had just finished cleaning up breakfast when there was a knock on the door. Peter opened it to see his aunt. 

“Hey,” he said with a smile, and stepped aside to let her in. 

Morgan laughed and ran towards her. “May!” 

May grinned and spread her arms wide. “Hi! Come here, kiddo!” 

They hugged, and May said friendly hellos to everyone else, Morgan still stuck to her side. The two of them had always been close. 

“Good to see you, May,” Pepper said, smiling. 

“You too!” May replied cheerfully after giving Pepper a hug. “It’s been too long. You guys been doing good?” 

Morgan stepped back to stand with her dad, and Tony ruffled her hair. “Yeah,” Tony said. “Everything’s been great lately.” 

“That’s good,” May said, nodding. “I love to hear it.” She smiled at the lot of them all crammed in the small apartment. “So what’s the plan for today?” 

“We’re going to the zoo!” Morgan said excitedly, jumping a little bit. 

Tony chuckled. “Is that what we’re doing?” 

“Oh, I wish I could come,” MJ said, putting her coffee mug in the sink. “That sounds like a lot more fun than what I’ve got to do today.” 

Morgan looked disappointed. “You can’t come?” she whined. 

MJ shook her head apologetically. “Sorry. I have to go into work today.” 

“Do they really have you working Saturdays?” Tony asked incredulously.

MJ just shrugged. “The news never stops. Just take a video of the otters for me.”

“Oh, of course,” Peter replied with a grin. They were her favorite animals. MJ smiled appreciatively and gave him a quick kiss. 

“Ew!” Morgan said loudly, making them all laugh. 

It didn’t take long for them to get ready to leave. Peter packed a bag full of water bottles, Tony and Pepper got decked out in their incognito gear again, and they headed out. Pepper had called ahead for a car, so they piled together into it and were driven to the Central Park Zoo. 

Peter hadn’t been to the zoo in a long time. In fact, the last time he went was before Ben had died. But he was sure they’d have a good time. Morgan had been really obsessed with animals recently, and they didn’t have any kind of zoo where they lived upstate. 

They entered the zoo through the priority line and they all just followed after Morgan, going wherever she wanted to go. They stopped first to look at the sea lions, and then headed into the Tropic Zone building. It was warm and humid inside, and filled with birds and snakes and other creatures. 

At one point, Morgan was leaning up close to a case, her nose almost touching the glass. Peter stepped up next to her and crouched down so that they were equal heights. 

“Are those spiders?” Peter asked, looking closely between the leaves and sticks that lined the case. 

Morgan nodded. “They’re making a nest.” 

“Don’t you mean a web?” 

“No,” Morgan said, looking up at him and then back again. “These ones make a nest.” She paused, still looking intently at the spiders. Then she said in a hushed voice, “Do you think if a spider bit me, would I get powers too?” 

Peter felt a rush of amused affection, and put a hand up on Morgan’s shoulder. “I don’t think so, Mo,” he told her, matching the tone of her voice. “The spider that bit me was… different. It wasn’t something you’d just find out in nature.” 

“Oh,” Morgan said, looking a little disappointed. 

Peter raised an eyebrow at her. “So don’t go looking to get bitten, okay? Lots of spiders are dangerous.” 

“I know,” she replied softly. 

He squeezed her shoulder, and smiled. “You don’t need that, anyways. You’re already way too awesome. You having powers wouldn’t be fair to the rest of us.” 

Morgan giggled a little bit, and then looked over at him. “Daddy doesn’t have powers, and he still helped people.” 

Peter nodded fervently. “That’s right. You don’t need to have anything fancy to make a difference. And you’re smart enough to do whatever you want to do.” 

“So I could build an island,” Morgan said, starting to laugh at herself, “That’s just made of candy?”

Peter smiled at her. “Now you’re thinking,” he said. “Have you learned about spiders in school? How’d you know these make nests?” 

Morgan pointed at the plaque below the case. “‘Cause I can  _ read,”  _ she said sassily. 

Peter laughed. “Okay, you got me there.” 

“I wish we would talk about spiders in school. I don’t think we have yet. We did read  _ Charlotte’s Web,  _ though.”

“Oh, I love that book,” Peter said. He spotted May waving at them from the doorway. “Let’s keep moving, okay?” he said to Morgan, standing up again. “There’s a lot to see.” 

She nodded and led the way out of the building and back into the sun. 

They all wandered around the zoo leisurely, stopping to look at all the animals along the way. Tony and Pepper kept their hats and glasses on, and luckily managed to avoid attention. Morgan was particularly entranced by the snow leopard, so they ended up spending a long time there. 

Peter was leaning up against the railing of the enclosure as Tony walked up next to him. They both looked up at the buildings they could see beyond the edge of the zoo. 

“It’s so weird how there’s just a bunch of exotic animals living in the middle of New York City,” Peter said, smiling over at Tony. 

Tony snorted. “I think a lot of people living here could be defined as exotic animals.” 

“True enough,” Peter laughed. 

Tony just smiled. “It is always funny to come here as a tourist, after living here for so long.”

“Yeah -- what would younger you think about present you?” 

“Oh, God,” Tony said, chuckling. “I mean, I could never have predicted my life now. Could you have predicted this?” 

Peter shook his head. “Not at all.” 

“Right. It’s useless to make too many plans in life, I say. Life’s always got something new to swing at you that you never saw coming -- bad or good.” 

“Tell me about it,” Peter said, huffing a laugh.

He opened his mouth to say something else when a noise made him freeze. It sounded like a burst -- something crackling. Then the sounds of screams. 

Tony had noticed him pause, and was watching him closely. “What is it?” he said. 

Peter shook his head, looking closer at the buildings he could see, trying to pinpoint where the noise was coming from. “I don’t know. But I --” 

Peter felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Tony looking grim faced. “I get it. Go get ‘em, kid. Just -- be careful.” 

He quirked a little smile, trying to set Tony’s nerves at ease. “Aye-Aye, captain. I’ll be back in no time. The others won’t even notice I left.” 

Tony just raised an eyebrow. “Sure they won’t.” He let go of Peter’s shoulder and waved him on. “Now, go on. Get. And be careful,” he said again. 

Peter nodded, turned on his heel, and sprinted for the exit, leaving Tony with the snow leopard. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The storm's ahead, people... hope you're ready for it!   
> As always, if you have thoughts I'd love to see them in comments!   
> <3


	7. Chapter 7

Peter didn’t have to look far to find the source of the disturbance. He’d only gone a block from Central Park when -- 

“Whoa!” The spidey sense buzzed in his head, and he dove to the side just in time to dodge a shock of energy that blasted a crater in the building behind him. Stuck to the wall, he turned to see -- “Electro!”

He’d faced Electro a couple times before, and had even gotten him into Ryker’s once. But the guy was slipperier than most, or maybe he just had good lawyers, and recently he’d managed to get off with only community service. 

Now the criminal was running down the street, several duffle bags slung over his shoulder, leaking cash. 

What was it with criminals and taking money? Didn’t any of them have any original ideas? 

“Hey buddy,” Peter called out, landing on the sidewalk. “That wouldn’t be  _ stolen  _ money, now would it? We’ve had this talk before -- stealing is  _ bad _ .”

“Out of my way, bug!” Electro slammed his chest, and he shot backwards, electricity buzzing through his body. 

“Ah!” He shook out his limbs and webbed the nearest lamppost. “Careful, you could’ve hurt me!” Spider-Man swung through the air and smashed his feet into Electro’s face. The burglar tumbled to the ground, but electricity shocked through him again. His teeth buzzed as he shook the shock away. “Ugh, okay, not my smartest move there.”

Electro clambered to his feet and smiled. “Like the new buzz? I gave my suit a bit of an upgrade. Now I’m unstoppable!”

“Yeah, don’t speak too soon, you’ll just embarrass yourself.” He webbed up his fists and popped one in Electro’s face. The criminal flew backwards into a mailbox, denting the metal. One of the duffle bags came off of his shoulder and cash flew everywhere. 

The resulting shock sent Spider-Man flying back just as far. He smacked into the lampost, his head ringing. People were screaming, and police cars were gathering down the street, their lights flashing. 

“Come on, get out of here!” He yelled at pedestrians nearby once he’d gotten back on his feet. 

Electro got up again, chucking. “My electricity will travel through your webs! You can’t touch me!” Energy crackled around him, and he glowed in the darkening shadows. “You’re not sending me back to prison this time, Spider-Man!”

“Are you saying you never wanted to be in prison? It always seems like you’re asking for it! _ ”  _ Peter ribbed. Meanwhile, he looked around. Obviously his old tactics weren’t working. He needed to figure out something, and quick. He wasn’t sure how many more shocks he could take. 

_ Kazzak!  _ Electro sent a blast of electricity his way and he dove to the side just in time.

Suddenly he spotted a fire hydrant down the street. That could do it! The water might just reflect his electricity back at him. Peter just needed to get him close enough.

He ran forwards, dodging another bolt, and grabbed the duffle bag lying on the ground. 

“Electro, fetch!” He threw the bag down the street. 

“Aagh!” Electro yelled in anger and electricity hit Spider-Man in the chest, hurling him into the concrete wall of the building behind him. “You interfering little --”

“Now, now. There could be kids listening!” Peter groaned as Electro turned and ran to get the bag of money. Spider-man cocked his head. “What do you know, it worked.”

“Ugh,” his head spun as he stood up. He quickly webbed the building and swung after the green and yellow suited villain. His feet knocked into the fire hydrant and water sprung free. 

“Missed me!” said Electro with a smile. His hands rose. “Now, watch me -- aAGH!” Electro started shaking and screaming. 

It was working. The water was reflecting his electricity back at him.

“What’s -- happening?” Electro screamed.

Peter was hanging above him now by the street light. He smirked. “Unstoppable? Was that what you just said about yourself?”

“No! You’re not -- AHH!” Electro cried out in pain and rage, and the arcs of electricity suddenly grew taller. 

Peter’s spider-sense had barely warned him before one of them licked his foot. 

The shock of it made his whole body buzz, and his hands automatically released the web he was holding.

Peter didn’t feel himself falling towards the ground, but he did feel when he hit the water. It was pain like he’d rarely felt before, coursing up and down his whole body. 

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. 

The last thing he heard before blacking out was the continued crackle of electricity and Electro’s tortured screams. 

* * *

He woke up groggy but coherent, with a mouth that felt like it was full of cotton, and knew off the smell alone he was back in the Avengers med wing. 

God, he needed to spend less time in here. 

He moved slowly, testing to see what hurt. Surprisingly, all of his limbs seemed to be intact. His chest was the only thing that ached. It felt like a herd of elephants had gone over him. 

Peter opened his eyes to see a too familiar sight — Tony and May sitting by his bedside, asleep. 

He let out a sigh as he watched them breathe. Peter put them through too much, really. They didn’t deserve it. 

He tried to stay quiet as he shifted in bed, but unfortunately neither of his parental figures had ever been deep sleepers, and they both came awake suddenly. 

May was first to react. “Peter!” she said happily, her voice still a little thick from sleep. She put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle smile. “How do you feel?” she asked. 

Peter smiled back, trying to put her at ease. “I’m okay,” he said. “I mean, my chest hurts a bit, but…” he shrugged. “Water, though… I’d love some water.” 

“I’ll grab you some,” May said, standing. 

“Do you remember what happened?” said Tony, leaning forwards.

Peter thought back. “Electro… I was fighting Electro.” He looked down at himself, taking in the wires attached to his chest and the hospital gown. “I guess I didn’t win,” he said softly.

Tony leaned back again and crossed his arms over his chest. “Actually, you somehow managed to win  _ and  _ lose at the same time,” he said, his expression unimpressed. “Amazing how you did that.” 

“So he’s down? I got him?” Peter asked, shifting to try and sit up straighter. He froze and hissed when the dull pain in his chest spiked sharply. 

Tony had a hand fast on his shoulder, pressing him back down. “Nuh-uh, Pete. When you used that water to take out Electro, it ended up shocking you, too. Your heart stopped.” He looked pained. “So you’re gonna follow the doctor’s orders and rest for a few days.” 

“What?” Peter took a shaky breath. “I… oh,” he finished lamely, his eyes sliding to the ceiling. His heart actually stopped?

“Yeah,  _ oh,” _ Tony said, raising an eyebrow. “That wasn’t cute, kid. You scared us. I’m the one with the heart problems, you know that. Can’t be having you steal that title from me.” 

“Sorry,” Peter said, shaking his head, his eyes wide. “I…” 

May walked back into the room with a glass full of water. She pressed it into Peter’s hands. “Are you chewing him out already?” she asked Tony. “I thought we were gonna do that together.” 

“Sorry,” Tony replied, meeting her gaze. “I jumped the gun, I guess. You’re welcome to chime in now, though.” 

May looked back down at Peter and ran a hand through his hair softly. He just sipped his water, reveling in the cool liquid calming his throat. 

There was silence for a minute, and Peter thought maybe she would spare him the lecture. But then she bit out, “Peter, what the  _ hell  _ were you thinking? Are you stupid?” 

Peter opened his mouth. Closed it again. “No?” he said hesitantly, unsure of how she wanted him to reply. 

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “So why did you do something so foolish?” 

He frowned. “Foolish?” What was foolish about helping people and stopping that guy?

“You were  _ just  _ here. What -- a month ago? You have to figure out how to do this without hurting yourself!” 

Peter huffed in frustration. “It’s not like I’m doing it on  _ purpose.  _ It’s just a side effect of being Spider-Man!” 

May took a seat next to him and grabbed his free hand. “Maybe you could stop the solo act. Join up with the Avengers again? Or the Fantastic Four?” 

Tony leaned back and crossed his legs. “It’s not a bad idea,” he said. “I never did understand why you left the Avengers.” 

“I didn’t  _ leave  _ the Avengers,” Peter replied testily. “I was never really part of the Avengers.”

“Please, yes you were. I inducted you, remember?” 

“Okay, so I was an Avenger for like two hours. But you know, we’ve never exactly had the same outlook on things. I’m much better staying in New York and helping out occasionally than having to ship out all the time.” 

“What about the Fantastic Four? Why don’t you join them?” May asked. 

Peter shook his head. “For the same reasons, okay? The FF flies all over the place doing crazy shit. I need to be here.” 

May sighed. “Well, it would be nice if  _ someone  _ could have your back.” 

“My spidey senses have my back,” Peter said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. 

Tony just raised an eyebrow. “Apparently not all the time.” 

Peter groaned in frustration and sunk further into the pillows. It was nice having people who cared about him, and he hated concerning them, but this wasn’t really something he could avoid. 

May took the cup of water out of his hand and put it on the side table. “Okay, okay,” she relented. “We can talk about this when you’re not flat on your back.” 

“I don’t know,” Tony said. “This is the only time he can’t run away.” 

“Try me,” Peter replied dryly. Then he looked around. “What time is it, anyway?” He could see from the light coming in through the window that it was daytime, but not much more than that. 

“About three in the afternoon,” May said. “It’s Sunday.” 

Good, then. He could probably make it in to work tomorrow. “What about MJ? She okay?” 

“She was here last night,” Tony told him. “She should be back later. Pepper and Morgan went out for a walk.” 

Peter cringed. “Sorry,” he said. “I guess I kind of ruined your visit.” 

Tony shrugged and patted his knee. “No worries, kid. I’m pretty sure Pepper accounts for this sort of stuff in the schedule by now.” 

That didn’t exactly make him feel better, but he relaxed anyways. He was too tired to feel guilty right then. 

The hours in the hospital passed slowly as a number of tests were performed on him to make sure his ticker was working right. Luckily Morgan and Pepper came back from their walk and made things a little livelier. The doctor on duty told him he’d need to stay the night, but that he’d be able to leave in the morning. And this time, there was no prescription necessary. 

May eventually had to leave to get ready for work, since she had switched her shift with one of the night nurses. She gave him a kiss on the forehead and told him to call her when he got home. 

Tony continued to sit with him, even after Pepper and Morgan had gone to get dinner. Before they left, Morgan gave Peter a squeeze. “Love you,” she said. 

Peter smiled. “Love you too, Mo. Eat some french fries for me.” 

Pepper and Morgan left, waving one last time before the door closed behind them. 

Tony sighed, and leaned back in his chair. “You know, you’ve got to come back to the cabin one of these days,” he said. “Relax a little.”

“I will, I will,” Peter said. “The holidays, remember?”

Tony nodded. “You guys still sure you don’t want to come up for Thanksgiving?”

“May just wanted to have it be us this year. But Christmas — we’ll all be there for Christmas,” Peter assured him.

“MJ too?” Tony asked. 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I think you like her better than me,” he said.  _ “Yes,  _ she’ll be there.”

“What can I say,” Tony shrugged. “Sometimes you people are all a little too peppy for my taste. I need somebody to grumble with.”

As if the words had summoned her, the door opened to reveal MJ. She was wearing a dark red sweater, and looked worn out. 

“MJ,” Peter said, smiling. He always felt better when they were together. 

MJ stepped towards him, smiling back tiredly. “Hey,” she said softly. “How are you?” 

“Doc says he’ll be free to leave in the morning,” Tony assured her. “Which is what we’ll be doing too, unfortunately.” 

“You’re not leaving tonight?” MJ asked. 

Tony shook his head. “Nah. It’s too late for that. But --” he patted Peter’s leg. “Since you’ve got someone to keep you company here, I think it’s time for me to make like a baby and head out.” 

Peter cringed. “Yikes. I wouldn’t repeat that if you don’t want to lose any of the respect you have left.” 

Tony huffed a laugh. “Perfect. I was looking for a good reason for people to lose respect for me.” 

Peter just rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, well, I gotta get going,” Tony said reluctantly, his hands on his knees. “You gonna be okay here?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Peter replied. “I know the drill by now. No being a dumb-ass for at least a week.” 

Tony scoffed. “Well, I’d love it if we could extend that timeline, but I’ll take what I can get. I’ll have to get you one of those signs -- ‘It’s been 2 days since the last accident.’” 

Peter chuckled, and cringed. “I don’t think I need to see those numbers.” 

“You’re telling me.” 

Tony stood and ruffled Peter’s hair one last time. “See ya, Pete. Call me soon, keep me updated, okay?” 

“Yeah, I will,” Peter reassured him. 

Then Tony pulled his hand back, nodded warmly at MJ, and left the room. 

The door clicked shut quietly behind him. 

Peter turned to look at MJ, who was lowering herself into the chair that Tony had just been in. Her brows were drawn, and her lips pressed together tightly. 

“I’m feeling better,” Peter told her after they sat in silence for a moment, hoping to get her to relax. She looked wound tighter than a piano wire. 

“I was here last night,” she replied, still tense. “Your heart stopped, you know that?”

Peter bit at the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, I’ve heard.” 

“You scared me. A lot.” She swallowed, looking torn up, and Peter felt guilt rising in his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter said quietly, twisting the blankets in his hands and looking up into her face. 

MJ just shook her head. “Peter… don’t.” She looked tired, her brows drawn together, expression weary. “I…” She sighed.

Suddenly, Peter was terrified of what she would say next. He froze, his heart racing in his chest, and waited for her to speak. Somehow the words were still shocking when he heard them. 

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” MJ said quietly, shaking her head. She looked up into his eyes, her gaze honest and sad. 

The words felt like a rush of cold water. “What do you mean?” Peter asked, lips numb. 

MJ clasped her hands together on her lap and pressed her lips into a tight line. “I mean… I can’t… God...” She wrestled with the words. “I just don’t think I can be with you anymore,” she said finally. “I think -- I think we have to end it.” 

Peter blinked, shocked. “What… MJ, what? Why?” he hated how pitiful and confused he sounded. 

“Why? Because… because of stuff like this!” Michelle said, louder now. She gestured around the room at Peter and the monitors that were still beeping out his heart rate. “Every time I turn around you’re back in the hospital. I can’t -- I can’t put so much of my energy into a person who… I can’t depend on.” She ran a hand anxiously through her hair. “Peter, I worry every day that when I say goodbye to you and go to work, or kiss you goodnight, that that will be the last time I see you! Or that the next time I see you, you’ll be dead, or horribly injured. How is that fair?” 

Peter frowned, and argued, “MJ, I’m sorry. That’s just the nature of it. There’s risk involved in being Spider-Man! I -- I can’t avoid those, and sometimes, I get hurt… but it’s worth it--” 

“I know that there’s risk, and it’s not that I don’t understand  _ why _ you do it,” MJ continued, cutting him off and leaning forwards in her chair. “But that doesn’t make it better on my end. I’m  _ sick _ of standing by and watching you get hurt. I just feel… useless,” she said, frustrated. “I’ve been in this room too much. I can’t be here again.” 

Peter just stared at her, his chest feeling horribly tight. “Do you…” he almost couldn’t say the words. “Do you not love me?” 

MJ looked stricken. “No, I do love you Peter --  _ so _ much. But that’s the problem, I think.” 

“How is that a problem? How?” Peter asked desperately, ignoring the twinge in his chest as he pushed himself to sit up straighter. “I love you, too! That’s --” 

His heart rate was picking up on the monitor, and MJ snapped her gaze to look at it before standing and pushing his shoulder back onto the bed. 

“This is why I didn’t want to do this right now,” she said, obviously frustrated. “I didn’t mean to, I just -- Please, don’t get up, Peter. Just… just listen to me, okay?” 

Peter settled down begrudgingly, and MJ waited until his heart rate went down again before she spoke again. 

“Peter… I’m sorry. I really wish it was different, because I do care about you, and I don’t want you -- I don’t want to hurt you, okay? I swear. But I also don’t want  _ me  _ to hurt. You getting injured all the time… it’s not good for either of us.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if that makes me weak, or what. But I can’t be like one of those army wives who sits at home knitting and wondering if their partner is gonna live or die!” 

Peter felt like he was slipping, his fingers barely holding on to a window pane with a thousand foot drop below. “But --” he started.

“No, let’s just --” MJ ran a hand over her face before standing up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done this now. Just, get better, and then we’ll talk, okay? I can’t have this conversation with you in here.”

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but again didn’t get the chance. 

She took a step back and grabbed her purse from beside the chair. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I have to go. We’ll talk tomorrow when you’re feeling better. Okay? I just…” she swallowed roughly. “Bye, Peter.” 

“MJ, no, please --” 

But with that, she turned and left the room, the door swinging shut behind her. The space where she had been a moment before felt like a vacuum. 

Peter felt a swooping feeling in his stomach, like he had missed the last step on the stairs in the dark. He wished that he could run after her, but somehow he knew that even if he could, it wouldn’t help. Instead, he stared at the door, hoping that she would come back inside, that she would take it back. 

The door stayed shut. 


	8. Chapter 8

Peter stood outside the door of their apartment, one hand on the doorknob. He could hear MJ inside -- it sounded like she was sitting on the couch, maybe reading or looking through her phone. 

Normally he’d have gone inside a long time ago. But he knew that as soon as he walked through the door, things would be different. 

He was scared. 

Peter let out a long breath and turned the knob. 

MJ looked up at him as he entered, putting the book she was holding to the side. “Peter,” she said. “I -- I thought you’d be back earlier.” 

“I went to work today,” Peter replied, closing the door behind him. “Can’t really miss any more days, you know.” 

She was looking him over carefully. “How’re you feeling?” she asked. There was a stilted nature to the words. 

Peter had to look away from her as he walked to the fridge. The tension between them was like ice in his chest. “I’m fine.”

“Good,” MJ said. 

He reached into the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. “You know, I heal pretty quickly.” 

MJ picked up what he was saying immediately. “I know that,” she said sharply. “Just because you heal quickly doesn’t mean you didn’t almost die.”

“But it means I can take more than other people.” 

MJ frowned. “And you seem determined to figure out where the line is.” 

“MJ, come on --” 

She stood suddenly. “No -- just stop, and let me talk, okay? Because this stuff has been on my mind for a while now.” She rubbed her face for a moment before shaking her head again. “I was close to doing this the last time -- after Venom. But… I convinced myself again that it was worth it, and that I loved you. But now…” she ran a hand shakily through her hair. “I just, I feel like we’re on unequal ground, you know? And because I -- I can’t  _ do anything _ to help you when you run off to fight people, when you do get hurt like this, it feels even worse. Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but again didn’t get the chance. 

“Nevermind, don’t bother. I know you don’t get it.”

Peter let out a frustrated sound and squeezed the water bottle in his hand. “How can you say that when you haven’t even tried to talk to me about this?  _ Help  _ me understand!” he said fiercely.

MJ considered him for a moment before taking another uneven breath. Her face was pained. “I never brought it up because I know that it’s like you said yesterday -- that you’re Spider-Man, and there’s risks there. You can’t change because that’s not something that can change. Obviously I’m not going to try and stop you from being Spider-Man. That’s just who you are. And… and I thought I could live with it, but I can’t. I need to take care of myself, and I think that means not… not being with you,” she finished roughly. 

Peter had felt like a rug had been pulled out from underneath his feet, and now he could feel frustration stirring in his belly. “You don’t even want to try and work this out?” he asked. “You’ve never even brought up how you felt before! How am I supposed to fix this if I don’t know what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, Peter,” MJ said. “I don’t think we can fix this. And I know I sound selfish. But I think I have to be selfish, when it comes to this.”

Peter shook his head, struggling to take in what he was saying, and desperate to fix whatever hurt he had caused. “But… we  _ can _ fix this. I can change -- whatever you want, I’ll do it --”

“It’s not that simple!” MJ snapped, pointing at him with one finger. “You are Spider-Man. That’s not going to change. And I don’t want you to change that! But one of these days, someone you can’t beat is gonna come along, and you’re gonna get killed.” Her expression was twisted, and she shook her head. “I just can’t be there to watch that happen.” 

“So you’re just gonna break up with me?” Peter said, anger still bubbling as he tried to understand what she was saying. He put down the water bottle on the table with a little too much force. “How the hell is that any better?” 

There were tears rising in MJ’s eyes. “I -- I need someone I can  _ depend  _ on!” she cried, her voice rising. “I love you, but I can’t  _ really  _ love you. I’m fucking tired of having to protect myself! I just want to love someone, and not be scared to do it!” The tears spilled over and down her cheeks. 

Peter blinked, dumbstruck. The emotion that started in his belly was rising its way up into his throat. “You…” he swallowed roughly. “How -- how can you say this stuff? How long have you been…  _ half  _ loving me?” 

“No,” MJ said, her voice clouded with tears. “That’s not what I meant, Peter.” 

“It sounds like what you meant! What has this even been?” Peter said, gesturing around the apartment. “What have we been doing for two years?” 

MJ shook her head. “You’re twisting my words.”

“How am I twisting your words? How?” 

“I do love you! But loving you is  _ hard.”  _ She wiped tears angrily away from her face. “You have this other life that I’m not a part of; that I can’t compete with. And I can’t know what’s gonna happen! Call me selfish, call me evil, I don’t care! I just want to know that you’ll be there.” She shook her head. “And right now, I never know.”

Peter’s emotions were battling each other -- hurt, anger, confusion. “So that’s it? We’re done?” 

MJ looked gutted, but she just nodded. “Yeah. That’s how it has to be.” She sniffed. “I’m sorry.” 

“Well, I’m sorry loving me is such a  _ burden.”  _ Peter snapped nastily. “Go out with John Jameson. Maybe that’ll be  _ easier.”  _

“Oh, come on, Peter.” 

He looked down at the ground, his ears ringing, breathing heavily. “Well, I guess I’ll leave, then.”

MJ shook her head, and wiped her eyes again. “I’m not trying to kick you out.” 

Peter pressed his lips together, fighting against the knot that was forming in his throat. “No, I need to go. I’ll just… get some of my stuff.” 

MJ sat back down on the couch and crossed her arms. “Okay,” she said, her voice small. She wouldn’t look at him.

He’d been hoping she wouldn’t want him to go. That she’d convince him to stay. The fact that she didn’t made his heart twist a little more. 

His voice was quiet when he replied. 

“Okay.” 

* * *

Peter waited until he was two blocks away and high in the air before he screamed. 

_ “Fuck!”  _

He landed ungracefully on the nearest rooftop and clenched his hands to the top of his head. His breathing was shaky and quick. His chest felt like someone had torn claws through it, and now it was a mess of hurt and anger -- at himself and MJ. 

Peter yanked his mask up above his nose, trying to get some fresh air. He’d cleared out of the apartment -- MJ’s apartment, now, he supposed -- as quick as he could, shoving everything into his backpack. He was sure he’d left things behind. And most of what was in there he and MJ had bought together. 

He had thought -- God, he had thought --

Peter let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. 

How had he been so  _ blind?  _ Had he been ignoring how MJ was feeling? Or had she just been keeping things too close to her chest? 

“Can’t change,” he muttered fiercely. “She can’t just say that I wouldn’t change.” 

He looked around himself, clenching his fists tightly. 

“Fuck,” Peter said to himself again. “What the hell am I gonna do?”

The sun was just dipping below the horizon, turning the clouds pink and orange. The temperature was dropping rapidly as the light disappeared. 

He’d left the apartment without a second thought. But where else was he gonna live? 

Ned was in the Philippines, or else he’d go there. He could go to Johnny… but no -- they were close, but not like that. And the last thing he wanted to do was tell May. 

Peter heaved a sigh and pulled down his mask. Might as well make use of a sleepless night. 

He stepped up to the edge of the roof, and spoke aloud, “Karen, talk to me.” 

_ “Here, Peter.”  _

“Find me something.” 

* * *

The next few days passed in a blur that simultaneously felt like two hours and two years. Peter stayed out all night, chasing trouble or simply swinging through the streets, napping in hammocks he made out of webbing when he couldn’t move any more. He showed up at work, and Toby kept shooting him increasingly less furtive looks as Peter appeared each day more and more haggard. On Wednesday, he asked Peter if he wanted to grab drinks after work. Peter declined, opting to wander through Central Park instead. 

Fall had appeared in earnest, leaving the air chilled and slowly turning the leaves vibrant colors. They spiralled down onto the pathways as Peter walked through them, his mind turning over itself. 

He’d rarely felt so lost before. He’d come to depend on MJ -- not just for her company, her wit and her intelligence and her intensity, but just her presence in his life. They’d broken up in the past, but those times they’d only been together for short stints -- the longest a couple of months. This had been two years. 

Peter had been thinking over every moment -- pouring over memories to find instances when she looked off center, when he could have been more attentive and asked how she was. He knew she could be quiet when it came to her own emotions. He should have done something more. But he still didn’t understand why she hadn’t spoken up. These opposing thoughts gnawed at him, leaving an open wound in his chest. 

He took a seat on a bench next to Turtle Pond and watched as a pair of ducks propelled themselves through the water. 

Peter wondered how she was doing. If she was as confused and hurt as he was. Or if she was feeling like there was finally a weight off her shoulders. Then he thought that he didn’t really want to know either way, since both would hurt. 

His train of thought was interrupted by a buzzing noise. He realized that it was his phone, and pulled it out of his pocket. 

The name on the screen made him groan. This was not a conversation he wanted to have right then. 

He couldn’t avoid it, though. That would just make it worse. So he tapped the answer button and brought the phone to his ear. 

“H- _ Hey,  _ Tony,” Peter said, feigning cheer. “What -- what’s up?” 

_ “Just callin’ to check up on you, Pete. How’re you feeling, post hospice? Have you been taking care of yourself?”  _

“Uh…” Peter swallowed and tried his best to sound convincing when he said, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Feelin’ good.” Truthfully, he hadn’t given a thought to the fact that he’d just been in the hospital. That he had felt like something from a year ago. 

_ “Right,”  _ Tony’s tone of voice made him think he hadn’t been so convincing after all.  _ “Well, I just was looking over your suit data and there’s some... interesting stuff here.”  _

Peter groaned and put his head in his hand. 

_ “Yeah, it’s saying you’ve been in the suit practically all night for  _ three nights?  _ What the hell, Peter?”  _ Tony sounded frustrated and concerned.  _ “You’re supposed to be looking after yourself.”  _

Peter let out another sigh and gripped his hair anxiously. “Yeah. Uh, yeah.” No point in denying it. It wouldn’t work. “Look, I can explain --” 

_ “I’d love to hear it.”  _

“Uh…” Peter wracked his brains for something reasonable to say, but nothing came to him. Instead, he said intelligently, “I… It’s -- um, I mean,  _ wow,  _ you seen that weather lately? Weird, am I right?” 

_ “Peter,”  _ Tony said, unimpressed.  _ “You gotta try harder than that.”  _ He paused, waiting for an answer. When Peter didn’t give it, he continued, his voice colored with concern.  _ “Come on, talk to me kid. Something’s up. I can tell.” _

Peter sighed deeply, his shoulders curling in on themselves. “It’s... MJ,” he admitted finally.

_ “MJ? Is she alright? Is everything okay?”  _

Peter spoke quietly. “No. I mean, she’s fine. It’s -- we… we broke up,” he admitted finally. It was the first time he’d said the words aloud, and they cut deep.

There was a pause, and when Tony spoke again he sounded surprised. This obviously hadn’t been what he was expecting Peter to say.  _ “What? When? What happened?”  _

“It was right after you left.”

_ “Right… you mean, while you were still in the hospital?” _

Peter nodded, and now that they were talking about it, it all seemed to come flooding out. “Kind of. She told me that she can’t be with me because… because she doesn’t like to see me hurt, because that hurts her. And that we weren’t on equal ground, or something?” He shook his head, the frustration rising again. “I just don’t understand why she didn’t say something earlier! We could have tried to fix it!” 

_ “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” _ Tony interrupted.  _ “Let’s just backtrack for a second. She broke up with you… while you were still recovering at Avengers Tower? Is -- Is that why you’ve barely stopped swinging for three days? Have you even been back to your apartment?”  _

“Yeah, I did. Right after I was discharged, just to see her -- just to talk it over again. She said I could stay there while I figure out somewhere else to live, but…” he shook his head. “I couldn’t be there any longer. I guess I’ll have to go back eventually to pick up the rest of my stuff, but…” 

_ “Wow,” _ Tony said. He sounded disbelieving.  _ “That’s pretty cold. I wouldn’t think MJ… damn. Sorry, kid.”  _

Peter shrugged. “I just can’t believe that there’s nothing I can do. There has to be something I can say, right?” 

Tony took a breath.  _ “Maybe. But honestly, I’d give MJ a little space for a minute. Don’t stay away too long, but... it sounds like she needs some time to think. That doesn’t necessarily mean it’s over forever.”  _

“I don’t know,” Peter said, chewing at his lip. “She was really upset.” 

_ “Let’s just focus on you for right now, okay? Because you’ve been swinging around the streets for three days after being hospitalized because your heart stopped. Have you even slept?”  _

“A little,” Peter mumbled guiltily. He shoved his free hand in the pocket of his jeans. 

_ “Sounds like you need to get your butt over to May’s. And if you don’t go, I’ll be calling her about this.”  _

Peter winced. “That just… isn’t that a bad scene? Moving back in with the aunt?” 

Tony sounded incredulous.  _ “It’s a better scene than living on the street. Now, don’t make me come back down there. Get over to your aunt’s apartment and explain what’s going on.”  _

“Okay, okay,” Peter said resignedly. 

_ “And Peter?”  _

“Yeah?” 

Tony’s voice was sympathetic.  _ “I’m here for you, okay? If you need somebody to talk to. I know break-ups suck, and relationships are hard. Believe me, I’ve seen it all.” _

Peter huffed a laugh. “Okay. Thanks, Tony.” 

_ “Thank me by going to May’s.”  _

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way,” Peter said, feigning annoyance but really feeling his heart warm a little at the concern.

_ “Text me when you get there. I’ll talk to you again soon, okay? I know Morgan wants to chat with you.”  _

“Tell her hi from me. Pepper too.” 

_ “Will do,”  _ Tony said.  _ “Bye, Pete.”  _

“Bye.”  __

Peter thought briefly about ignoring Tony and continuing to avoid his aunt, but he knew the threat of Tony coming down to the city was well founded, so eventually he moved on his way. 

He took the long way there, though, swinging almost around the whole city before he ended up in Forest Hills. It was dark by the time he arrived. He stopped in a nearby alley he’d used to change in for years, stuffing his mask into his backpack before walking the block up to her building.

The familiarity of it was both comforting and grating, knowing that he’d be staying here for different reasons now. 

Peter paused only for a moment before he knocked on the door. Better to get this over with, now. And the comfort of May’s presence was too tempting to put off any longer. 

The door opened to a surprised May, still dressed in her scrubs. She must have just gotten back from work. She looked him up and down.

“Hey, May,” Peter said softly, hoping he didn’t sound too pitiful. 

“Oh, Peter!” May frowned in confusion and checked the clock on the stove. “It’s pretty late. Not that I don’t love seeing you, but… Are you -- is everything okay?” 

He took a shy breath and slowly shook his head. “Not really,” he said, hating how unsteady his voice sounded. But the truth was that seeing May was threatening to break the floodgates down. 

May stepped close to him and put a hand on his shoulder, concerned. “Oh, honey. What is it? What happened?” 

“MJ broke up with me,” he said, the words spilling out suddenly. And at May’s responding expression his control broke, and the tears started spilling down his cheeks. 

May pulled him close and held him tight. “Aw, Peter. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” 

Peter couldn’t help it -- his shoulders shook with emotion, and he hugged May back just as tight. “I don’t have anywhere,” he said, voice thick. “To stay. Can I -- Can I stay with you? For a little bit?” 

“Of course you can,” May said. “Of  _ course _ .” 

“I’m sorry,” Peter sputtered, embarrassed. “I just -- I don’t --” 

May moved a hand to the back of his hair. “Shh,” she said. “Hey, it’s okay.” 

When Peter pulled back from the hug, May offered him a sympathetic smile. “It’ll be okay, Peter. Why don’t you explain everything over some Chinese, huh? I’ll order your favorite.” 

Peter nodded, wiping his eyes. “That’d be good, I think. Thanks, May.” 

She gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Okay. But first, why don’t you go take a shower -- you smell like you just swam in a dumpster.” 

He sniffed his armpit. “Hmm,” he agreed. He hadn’t considered that, but three days of not showering had definitely taken its toll. Peter watched May walk into the kitchen, and then turned to go wash off the grime from the last few days. 

* * *

That night, after the first satisfying meal he’d had in days and a few episodes of Trailer Park Boys, Peter thought he’d be able to drift off to sleep easily. After all, he’d barely gotten six hours total the last couple nights.

But instead he found himself laying awake, watching the time pass on the clock next to his bed. 

At 2:30 in the morning, he couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled on his suit and left through the window. 

It was a Thursday night, so even despite the chill there were a decent number of people still out, chatting outside bars or waiting in lines to enter clubs. Music spilled from apartment windows. 

That was one thing Peter loved about New York. It was always so alive; filled with so many people who all had their own lives and stories. 

But that night he didn’t really feel like listening to other people having fun, so he headed for where the city was quieter. He ended up taking a route past Battery Park, then up along the Hudson towards Hell’s Kitchen.

He had just started to head back towards Queens when he felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck for a moment. 

Peter paused on the corner of a building, looking around for whatever had caused it, but the lights on this part of the street were out, and he couldn’t see much in the darkness. 

He turned his head about, and saw nothing. But still, it felt like there was something he was missing, just out of the corner of his eye… 

Peter shook his head and got moving again. He was just sleep deprived, that was all. 

He was a few blocks away from May’s apartment when he saw red and blue cop-car lights down the street. He turned and headed that way to see what it was, and if he could help.

Peter paused on top of a street light to look down into the scene, which was surrounded with yellow tape. It was a store front, its front windows broken in and merchandise strewn about inside. There were a few officers inside, taking pictures and collecting evidence. As he watched, an ambulance pulled away down the street. 

Then a small light illuminated on the sidewalk below him, and Peter smelled cigarette smoke. He looked down to see another officer standing just outside the line of tape, leaning up against the building behind him. 

The man was tall, with greying blonde hair. As Peter shifted on the street light, he looked up with an unfazed expression.

“Ah, it’s you,” the officer said before blowing out a small cloud of smoke. “I was wondering when you’d show up.” 

Peter looked around, then gestured to himself. “Who, me? Yeah, sorry, I guess my invitation got lost in the mail.” 

The man just dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his foot. “Yeah, I did hear you like your jokes. But… I wouldn’t bring ‘em out tonight.” 

Peter looked around, taking note of the scene. He’d assumed it was a burglary, with the disturbed furniture and broken glass. But then, in the corner, he spotted what looked like a puddle of deep red. 

Blood, with more splattered up the wall. 

“What happened here?” Peter asked, a chill running down his spine. He looked back at the policeman. “Is this…” Was this another killing?

The officer nodded. “We moved the body a few minutes ago. But it looks like part of the pattern. Hard to say for sure yet, of course. But at this point, I almost get a feeling about them.” 

“Have you been working this case since the start?” 

“Yeah,” he said tiredly. He looked up at Peter again. “The name’s George Stacy, by the way. Detective George Stacy.” 

“Spider-Man,” Peter replied with a nod.  _ “The  _ Spider-Man.”

“Right.” Stacy looked over his shoulder and back again as new noises came from inside. “Look, I’d actually like to talk to you about all of this, if you’re willing.” 

Seeing the scene, with the blood still lying in the corner, had stirred something in Peter’s chest. Maybe it  _ was _ time he stepped in. “Yeah. I can do that,” he said. 

“Good. But -- not tonight. Not here. I’m not sure what my superiors would think about you being involved. Is there some way I can contact you? Maybe we could arrange a signal, or something…” 

Peter huffed a short laugh. “No, don’t bother with that. I’ll just give you my phone number.” He had a unique number that he used as Spider-Man, apart from his normal number. He didn’t give it out often, but it was perfect for occasions like this. 

“Ah, right. Thanks,” Stacy said after he’d written down the number. “I’ll contact you soon. I think we could really use you.” 

“I look forward to it.” Peter looked one last time at the bloodied floor before giving Stacy a sloppy solute and jumping from the streetlight. In only another moment he was far down the street and away. 

* * *

Peter crawled back in through his bedroom window, feeling his thoughts whirring in his head. He pulled off his mask and stepped out of the suit, thinking about what he’d just seen. 

There had been another murder. How many was that now? And how could this monster keep getting away with it?

Peter knew that once he went to talk to Detective Stacy, he’d be tied to the investigation. He’d stayed away until now because he’d never been part of a hunt like this. The villains he fought tended to be more public. But still, he was sure that he could help. There must be some way… 

There was only one way to settle this. 

Peter picked up his phone from the bedside table and tapped over to his recent calls. Then he sat down on his bed and held the phone to his ear. 

Ned picked up after only a few rings.  _ “Hey, Peter!”  _ he said.  _ “What’s up?”  _

“I… wanted to talk to you about something, actually,” Peter replied, he kept his voice low so that it wouldn’t travel through the apartment.

_ “Oh, okay.”  _ Ned said. Then he paused. _ “Wait… isn’t it like, early as hell in New York? What are you calling me now, for? Did something happen?”  _

“No, no, it’s fine,” Peter said. Then he cringed. There was something important he hadn’t told Ned about yet. “Well, kind of.” 

_ “Peter?”  _ Ned said, sounding worried now.  _ “What happened?”  _

“It’s not -- life or death,” he frontloaded. “Well… it’s MJ. She -- she kind of broke up with me.” The words weren’t getting any easier to say. 

_ “No,”  _ Ned said in disbelief.  _ “No way. What happened?”  _

Peter swallowed. “Did you see I got in a fight with Electro?”

_ “No? When was that?”  _

“A couple days ago. I tried to stop him with his own electricity, but it kind of backfired on me, and stopped my heart.” 

_ “What?”  _ Ned’s voice was high pitched.  _ “Dude, I thought you said this wasn’t life or death?”  _

“I’m fine now,” Peter said quickly. “But… MJ told me she was done seeing me get hurt. That she can’t depend on me. She -- she told me she can’t really love me like this. That she’s afraid to love me.” That thought was the one that had stuck with him the most. He took a shaky, steadying breath. 

_ “Jesus,”  _ Ned said.  _ “Is it -- do you think she’s serious? When was this? Have you talked to her?”  _

“It was Monday night. That was the last I saw her. We fought, and then I took some of my stuff and left. I haven’t talked to her since. I -- I keep almost calling her, but I’m scared she’ll just say the same thing.”

_ “You left the apartment? Where are you staying now?”  _

“Oh, at May’s,” he said, leaving out the part where he’d slept on the street for a few nights. “I’m back in my old room.” 

_ “Shit, man,”  _ Ned said after a moment.  _ “That sucks. I’m so sorry.”  _

Peter sighed, and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “Yeah.” 

_ “Are you still -- are you still gonna talk to her? Stay friends? Or is it too soon to tell?”  _

“I don’t know,” Peter said honestly. “She didn’t really make that clear. But I don’t think… I couldn’t do that with her. Not right now.” 

_ “Well… are you -- you know, are you okay?”  _ Ned asked, a little awkwardly.  _ “I know how much she means to you. I don’t want you to...”  _ he trailed off. 

Peter shrugged. “You know, I think I’ll be okay,” he said. He said it as much to convince himself as Ned. “I mean, it sucks, like -- a lot, but… yeah, I think I’ll be alright.” 

_ “Okay,”  _ Ned said slowly.  _ “If you say so. Man, I wish I was in New York. Just… I’m here, yeah? If you ever need to talk about it.”  _

“Yeah, I know,” Peter replied with a small smile. “Actually, I did want to ask for your thoughts on something. You’re still my guy in the chair, right?” 

Ned chuckled, partly breaking the tension.  _ “Yeah, of course. Hit me.”  _

“So I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s been some weird murders in Queens,” Peter said. 

_ “Yeah, M -- I mean, I heard about that from somebody.”  _

Peter knew he meant MJ, but ignored it. “Well, I’m thinking it’s time I jump in.” 

_ “Yeah,”  _ Ned said instantly.  _ “Do it. There’s no one better, man.”  _

Peter was sure Ned was just trying to bolster his confidence, but it felt good all the same. “Thanks, man. I -- I actually ran into one of the detectives tonight. He wants to talk to me.” 

_ “Okay, nice. Oh, dude -- this is classic! Teaming up with a detective? And I’m sure they’ve been keeping a lot of info from the press.”  _

“Yeah, probably,” Peter replied. 

_ “Well, keep me updated,”  _ Ned said.  _ “You -- should probably get some sleep, though, right?” _

“Yeah, probably,” he said again. “I’ll -- I’ll call you again soon, though.” 

_ “Anytime, dude. I’m here for you.”  
_

Peter felt a little buoyed by the assurance. “Thanks, Ned.” _  
_

_ “No problem. Now, go to bed, yeah?”  _

“Right. Bye,” he said. Ned returned the farewell, and then ended the call. 

Peter dropped his phone onto his bedside table and crawled under the covers, suddenly feeling wiped. One glance at the clock had him groaning a little. He’d only be able to get a few hours before he needed to be up for work. But at least it was something. 

He closed his eyes, and drifted off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost forgot to upload today, but here you are!  
> A special thank you to the people following this story — I appreciate you all!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus -- I was on a little vacation, including from the internet. Also, the next few chapters are a little tricky. But anyway, enjoy!

“I’m not sure how you convinced me to do this,” Peter said to Johnny as they walked through the door of a bar filled with a Saturday night crowd. 

Johnny slapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, dude. This is exactly what you need.”

Peter just gave him a thin smile. “Right.” Except this was  _ not  _ where he wanted to be. Places like this had never been his scene. Even in college, he hadn’t been much of a partier. He’d rather be hanging out with just a couple of his friends than dancing with girls he didn’t even know. 

But college made him think of MJ, and that --

“I need a drink,” he said suddenly.

Johnny grinned. “That’s the spirit! Come on, let’s go get some shots in you.” He pushed Peter towards the bar. “How much does it take you to get drunk?” 

“A lot,” Peter said dryly. 

Johnny just nodded as he pulled out his wallet. “I think we can arrange that.” He waved at the bartender, and a minute later they each had three shots lined up in front of them. 

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Are you seriously gonna try and keep up with me? No offense, dude, but I don’t think that’s gonna end well for you.” 

Johnny took the first shot, then wiped his mouth and smirked. “Don’t worry about me, Parker. I can burn it off, remember? Now, come on!” 

Peter sighed and picked up the first glass. He caught eyes with the bartender for a moment, who was watching the two of them with amusement. Then he knocked back the first shot, grimacing as he did so. 

“Hell yeah!” Johnny said, slapping him on the back. Peter just rolled his eyes. 

They took the next two shots together, and then Johnny got them both a drink. Peter held the cold glass in his hand, feeling the condensation on the outside coat his palm. 

Johnny was looking around. “They got a pool table over there. You wanna play? Then we can get a couple more shots in you and maybe you’ll be ready to talk to a girl.” 

“Johnny, I don’t want to go home with someone,” Peter said wearily. Besides that, he had somewhere to be after all of this.

“Well then, they can go home with you!” he replied, waggling his eyebrows. 

Peter just looked at him. “To my aunt’s apartment?” 

Johnny paused. “Yeah, good point. But you’re gonna have a good time tonight, okay? Now let’s play pool, before someone else grabs the table.” 

It turned out that Johnny didn’t have to wait until after they’d had another round of shots, because as they were setting up the pool table two women came up to them, smiling nervously. They both seemed to know who Johnny was, and were happy to join their game when Johnny asked them to.

Peter waved awkwardly as he was introduced. It was pretty obvious that both of them would rather talk to Johnny, but through some silent conversation the two of them had, apparently it was decided that one of them would play with Peter instead. 

Her name was Jenn, or maybe Lynn -- it was hard to hear over the noise. She had sleek blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. She was certainly pretty, but Peter wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping her attention. It seemed like she wanted to be there just as much as he did. 

Peter tried gamely to flirt as they played. It wasn’t like he could show her how it was done, though. It had been obvious after the first round that she was way better at this than he was. Johnny was definitely having more success with the other girl. Not that it really mattered, anyway. 

Johnny and the other girl -- who’s name he learned was Nina -- ended up winning, of course. Somehow Jenn still didn’t ditch him, though, and the four of them went to go grab some more drinks. 

When Johnny lined up all the shots, the girls looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Peter couldn’t blame them. It probably looked like he was a hardened alcoholic or something. 

Thankfully he started to feel tipsy after the next couple shots. Time started to pass faster, and conversation came to his lips easier. 

At one point, Jenn and Nina went off to the bathroom, and Johnny pulled Peter in to talk to him. 

“This is fun, right?” Johnny said over the din. The bar had only gotten more crowded since they’d shown up. “I mean, do you see those women? Fuckin’ hot!” 

It was obvious that Johnny was quite a bit more drunk than Peter, despite his assurances to keep pace with him. 

He thought about the last time he’d been really drunk. It had been almost a year ago, at a New Years Eve party. He’d gone with MJ. She’d been wearing this sparkly dress that was something she would never usually wear, and she’d looked so beautiful. 

Johnny gripped his shoulder, and Peter snapped his head up to look at him. “Stop it,” Johnny said. “Stop thinking about her, man! She doesn’t deserve it!” 

“I just miss her,” Peter said, the words coming unbidden to his lips. Maybe he was drunker than he thought.

“Forget about her!” Johnny said fiercely, shaking his shoulder a little. “She doesn’t deserve it!” 

“Yes, she does. She deserves everything.” 

“Just forget about her!” Johnny said again. “Just go get another drink and dance with Lynn and forget about her.” 

Peter was going to reply again that no, it wasn’t that easy, but then Jenn and Nina showed back up again, smiling.

After a pointedly raised eyebrow from Johnny, Peter asked Jenn if she wanted another drink. She agreed, and the two of them made their way back to the bar. 

As they waited for their drink, Jenn seemed to warm up to him. She wouldn’t look away from his face, and kept brushing her hand on his arm. 

“So how do you know Johnny Storm?” she asked him. 

Peter chuckled and looked back over to where Johnny and Nina were dancing. 

“Sorry,” Jenn said, putting her hand on his arm again. “I just -- I’m curious.” 

“No, it’s okay. We’re family friends.” 

“That’s cute,” Jenn said. She cocked her head at him. “Are you a superhero too, then? I mean, you certainly seem buff enough to be one.” 

Peter’s eyebrows raised and he opened his mouth to respond. 

Before he could though, Jenn blushed and shook her head. “Sorry, that was cringy. Forget I said that.” 

Peter just chuckled, trying to brush off her concerns. “No, it’s uh -- thanks, I guess. I mean, I wish.” 

Luckily, their drinks were put down in front of them then, giving them both a good distraction. 

Jenn took a sip of hers and looked over at Johnny and her friend again. 

“Sorry I’m not really being that fun,” Peter said awkwardly. Jenn looked back at him. “I just… I’m kind of getting over a break up.” 

Jenn gave him a sympathetic smile. “Ah. I get it.” She put her hand on his arm again, and squeezed. “You wanna go back to my place? Might help you forget about it.” 

Peter blinked. He’d never had a girl be so forward with him before. It felt good, really. But still -- he shook his head. “Sorry,” he said apologetically. “I don’t think I’d be great company.” 

Jenn nodded, and then shrugged. “Well, it didn’t hurt to ask.” 

“It’s not you,” Peter added. “I mean, you seem great.” 

She just chuckled at him. “It’s okay. Really. I had a bad break up recently, too. I know how it goes.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t even be here, honestly. I should be studying for midterms. Nina kinda blackmailed me into this.” 

“Blackmailed you?” 

“Well… kind of. It probably didn’t take as much convincing as it should have.” 

Peter smiled. “Is it bad to say I’m glad you pushed off your studying? Tonight’s been better than I thought it would be, thanks to you.”

Jenn raised her drink at him. “Glad to be of service.”

“You wanna just… play another round of pool? You could teach me how the hell to actually play.” 

“It did seem like you were struggling a little bit,” Jenn teased. “Yeah, sure.” 

The two of them wandered back over to the pool tables and set up a game. Jenn was a good teacher, but she also joked with him like she’d known him for years. It felt easy, and nice, and somehow Peter stopped thinking about MJ so much. 

But then the game ended, and they both looked up to see where Johnny and Nina had gotten to. When they couldn’t see any sign of them, Jenn checked her phone. 

She snorted. “Yeah, I guess they headed out together.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. Classic Johnny. He didn’t even mind, though. Johnny probably assumed he was headed in the same direction with Jenn. Now though, he kind of just wanted to head out. 

Jenn must have noticed him glancing at the door, because she said, “Yeah, I guess I’m gonna leave too. Maybe I can actually get some studying done tonight. Just… let me give you my number. We could go out sometime, if you want. I mean, I’d like that.” 

“Sure,” Peter said easily, passing her his phone. “This was… fun. Thanks.” 

She gave him his phone back and squeezed his arm one last time with a friendly smile. “See you ‘round, I guess.” 

“Good luck on your midterms!” Peter called as she walked away into the crowd. She tossed him one last grin and a thumbs up. 

Peter sighed to himself. This night might not have been what Johnny planned for him, but he’d honestly had a good time, and that was way more than he expected. 

But still, as he watched Jenn walk towards the door, he didn’t think he actually felt any better. 

* * *

It was a few hours before dawn when Peter met up with Detective Stacy on top of a building near the police station. 

The night was cold and dark, a stark contrast to the atmosphere of the bar, and by then, all the alcohol that had been in his system had worn off. He’d spent the last few hours doing a lap around Queens, and now he was interested to hear what Stacy had to share. Ned was right — there were probably quite a few gruesome details of bits of evidence that hadn’t made it to the press. 

He swung closer, both curious and nervous about what he was about to be told. 

Peter made sure he approached so that the man would see him coming. Stacy waved him over as soon as he spotted him, and Peter landed in front of him in a crouch.

The detective crushed his cigarette on the building’s rail and gave him a nod. “Glad you made it,” he said.

Peter nodded back. “Thanks for inviting me. So… What’s the scene, Mr. Valiant?”

Stacy huffed a dark laugh. “Well, no one’s being framed here, as far as I can see. But we do have a murderer.” 

“Right.” Peter pushed himself up to sit on the rail. “What can you tell me about it?”

The detective passed him a folder. “Take a look. Whoever this guy is, he’s a slippery bastard. So far there have been eight murders, and as far as we can tell he hasn’t left a single mark of himself behind.”

“Jesus,” Peter muttered as he flipped through the folder. There were grisly photographs of the crime scenes. One featured a young woman, her head thrown back awkwardly, blood spattering her neck. In another, an old man lay in a dark pool of his own blood. “How are you sure they’re all connected?” he asked. 

Stacy paused. “Well, we haven’t declared officially that they’re connected without a doubt. Especially since we can’t make much of a connection — if any — between the victims. But —“ he looked steadily at Peter. “It’s the manner in which they’ve been killed. All stabbed and slashed multiple times in the abdomen, chest and neck. And,” he reached over and flipped to a specific page in the folder, one that looked like an autopsy report. “The weapon used is the same. It’s one that’s very peculiar, as well. Too wide to be a normal knife. Some cuts are jagged, and others are clean. In some spots it almost looks like claw marks, but…” Stacy shook his head. 

None of that information had been in the papers, and no wonder. Peter let out a long breath, trying to steady himself. It wasn’t often that he’d had to study scenes like this. He’d usually just see short glimpses of civilians in danger while he moved after a criminal. But these photographs were brutal. 

And there was something about these murders… there was cold anger behind them. He had a feeling that whoever this was had no goal beyond the murder itself. 

“Do you have any suspects?” Peter asked, pushing aside his discomfort. 

Stacy took back the folder. “A few. But our top suspect just turned up dead last week, actually. Washed up on a riverbank. It looks like it’s unrelated -- though we are looking into it. But since there’s been another murder since then, that leaves us almost at square one.”

“Okay. So… how can I help?”

A car horn sounded, making them both turn their heads sharply. After a moment, Stacy replied, leaning a little closer. 

“What I really need is someone who can follow our suspects a little closer than we can, if you know what I mean. Not to mention, you patrol these streets far more than us. Your eyes and ears would be invaluable on this.”

Peter cocked his head. “You’re saying you want me to follow people,” he said flatly. 

The detective shrugged. “That could be part of it. Just — the department’s taking this seriously, but there’s only so much we can do with so little evidence on these people. You can help us fill the gap.”

“How likely do you think it is that any of your suspects are actually guilty?” 

Stacy shook his head. “To be honest, I can’t say I’m confident about any of them. But —I’m tired of sitting around waiting for this evil son of a bitch to kill someone else.”

Peter considered him. What Stacy was asking him to do wasn’t exactly kosher. But then, he hadn’t been following the law since he’d started as Spider-Man. 

“Okay,” he decided, pushing himself to his feet. “I like a murderer as much as the next guy. And the next guy is you. So — I’ll help.”

Stacy looked relieved. “Great. The sooner we can take this guy down the better. Who knows what he’ll be capable of if we give him the time.”

“Right,” Peter agreed. “You can text my number with any other information you want to share, or if you want to meet again. It’s a secure line.”

Stacy nodded. 

With that, Peter stood up onto the rail, tossed the detective a sloppy solute, and jumped out into the night. 

* * *

_ “Wait, are you serious?”  _ Harry said to Peter. 

Peter held his phone to his ear and reached up to grab a package of toilet paper before tossing it in the cart. He was walking through the grocery store, shopping for him and May. “Yeah,” he sighed. “It was almost two weeks ago now.” 

_ “Why didn’t you tell me?”  _

Peter shrugged, then realized that Harry wouldn’t be able to see that. “I don’t know. I guess… I didn’t want to explain everything again. Sorry.”

_ “No, it’s…”  _ Harry paused.  _ “I guess -- I get it. I know you’ve gotta be upset. And I know I’m… far away.”  _ He sounded resigned.

Peter blinked at his tone. “No, it’s not like that, man,” he said quickly. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. I just --”

_ “No, it’s cool,”  _ Harry’s voice sounded forcefully upbeat now.  _ “I get it, I do. Don’t worry about it. But dude -- I can’t believe it. I always thought you and MJ were gonna get married someday. What happened?”  _ Then he stuttered for a moment.  _ “I mean, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but --” _

“Harry, chill,” Peter said, chuckling a little as he continued down the aisle towards the dish soap. “I want to tell you.” 

_ “Oh, okay. So -- what did happen?” _

Peter let out a breath. It would be interesting to explain this without letting slip that he was Spider-Man. Harry had never figured it out, and he hadn’t said anything either. “Well, it wasn’t pretty,” he said truthfully. “Mostly, I think MJ was mad because I wasn’t… taking care of myself. Or, you know -- trusting her enough.” 

_ “Ah,”  _ Harry said.  _ “I guess it’s true you keep things close to your chest sometimes. But… taking care of yourself? What’d she mean by that?”  _

“Uh, I don’t know,” Peter hedged. “I mean, she was angry. She wasn’t exactly being crystal clear about everything. But… it was clear how she feels,” he added gloomily. “She doesn’t want to be around me anymore.” 

_ “Have you tried to talk to her again?”  _

Peter stopped and grabbed some dish soap off the shelves. “Yeah, I’ve tried to call her. Voicemail every time.” 

_ “That’s rough. Maybe you could send a letter or something.”  _

Peter snorted, then shook his head. “No. If she wanted to talk to me, she would. I guess I just messed things up too badly.”

_ “Sorry, man.”  _

Peter sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “But -- why don’t you update me about you? You besties with Snoop Dog yet?” 

Harry laughed.  _ “Ah, I wish. But no. I’ve been too busy for that.”  _

As Peter continued through the grocery store he listened to Harry talk about what he’d been up to. He made sure to stop and grab a few ice packs -- he’d left his back at the old apartment, and had missed them the other night after a fight. 

_ “I might be back in town for Thanksgiving,”  _ Harry was saying.  _ “My dad might make me show for that.”  _

“Well, I know you don’t like seeing your dad,” Peter replied. “But it’d be fun to see you. Let me know what happens there.” 

_ “Yeah, I will. Listen,”  _ Harry added, his tone changing.  _ “I heard about those murders in Queens. People are saying it’s a serial killer.”  _

Peter opened and closed his mouth. “Uh, yeah. It’s terrible.” 

_ “Just… stay safe, okay?”  _

Peter felt a little touched at the unusual sentiment from Harry. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “You too.” 

_ “I’m -- I’m gonna go work out. I’ll talk to you soon.”  _

“Right. Bye,” Peter said. 

Harry hung up, and Peter pulled down his phone to look at it for a second before shoving it away in his pocket and heading for the checkout line. 

* * *

A few days later, Peter was sitting with May at the table, eating cinnamon oatmeal for breakfast. They’d quickly fallen back into the habit of sharing breakfast since he’d moved back in. May was flipping through the  _ Chronicle _ , reading the occasional article. At one point she stopped and paused, a frown coming to her face. 

Peter spoke around the oatmeal he’d just spooned into his mouth. “What is it?” 

May just looked up at him, then back down at the paper. “Is this true?” she said. “Are you working with the police to find that murderer?”

Peter blinked. “Wow, they sure picked up on that one quick.” 

“So it’s true? I thought you said you weren’t going to get involved.” 

Instead of answering, he held out a hand. “Can I see it?”

May passed him the paper before pulling her coffee mug into her hands. 

The headline she was talking about was halfway down the page: “Spider-Man Enters Hunt for Queens Killer” Their source was a statement from Detective Stacy. 

“Huh,” Peter muttered. “Thought he didn’t want that getting out.” 

“You’re really doing it, then?” May pressed. 

Peter looked up at her. “Uh… yeah,” he admitted. “I just talked to the lead detective on the case a few nights ago.” 

“Peter,” May said hesitantly, setting down her mug. “You know I trust you, but… is this really something you should be going after?”

Peter raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you -- scared for me, or something?” he asked, a little confused. “You know most people I try and hunt down are crazy super humans, right?”

May let out a short, frustrated breath. “Yes, Peter. I’m well aware. Just -- you’ve never tried to track someone down like this. Shouldn’t you just leave this to the police?”

Peter shook his head. “No. I mean, you’re right, but -- I want to help. It’s different, but if I can help, I need to help. And I think I  _ can  _ help. The police can’t track down leads like I can. This is happening  _ fast,  _ and they just can’t move fast enough.” 

May nodded, her expression a mixture of resignation and pride. 

“Besides,” Peter continued, biting at the inside of his cheek. “I’ve been thinking about all of this, and I’ve got a feeling something’s off about it, you know? Like maybe there’s more to this than the police think.” 

“More than a serial killer?” May asked, frowning. “Is this a spidey-sense kind of feeling?” 

Peter shook his head. “No… just -- just a normal feeling.” 

May looked a little relieved at that. “Okay, well… I know you’re gonna do what you think is right, and you’ve got good judgement there, so I won’t try and stop you.” She pointed at him with one finger. “But be safe, okay? Be smart.” 

“I know,” Peter replied with a little smile.

He was about to pass May the paper back when something else caught his eye. His chest stuttered a little in surprise. “Wait -- MJ!” he exclaimed. “She’s a co-writer on this!” The name Michelle Jones was right after John Jameson. 

May raised her eyebrows. “Really?” she sounded pleased. 

The information set off conflicting emotions inside him. “She did mention she might be put on it soon…” 

May was looking at him carefully now. “You okay?” she asked. 

Peter shook his head a little, and quickly passed the paper back to her. “Yeah,” he said. “Um… yeah. Fine.” 

He wasn’t really sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, he couldn’t help but feel pride. He knew that this was something MJ had been working towards for a while. At the same time, though, it was weird. Because it reminded him of her, obviously. It was weird to be so out of the loop about her life. But also because he’d never imagined her to be writing that kind of story. She’d always been focused on examining big social issues. Peter supposed this was probably just getting her foot in the door. 

He sighed down into his oatmeal. No use in thinking about it too hard. He tried to think about what he’d be doing that day at work, instead. But from the looks May kept giving him, it wasn’t working so well. 

It didn’t help that he hadn’t made any progress with the information Stacy had given him in the last few nights. He’d tailed a few of the people who were on the suspects list to no avail.

Now that he’d committed himself to the case, he felt anxious about finding answers and guilty that he hadn’t been able to get anything yet. But he had to remember that what May said was right — he’d never been involved in something like this before. It was probably going to take a minute before he knew the best approach to take with the information he had. 

It was curious that Stacy had revealed their new partnership to the press, though. He wondered if MJ’s involvement in the story had influenced that at all… 

Peter pushed up from the table. “I’m gonna get going,” he said. 

“Okay,” May said. “I might not see you until tomorrow - I’ve got the night shift again today.”

“Right.”

A minute later he’d gotten his things together. May was still sitting at the table, sipping her coffee. He tossed her a wave and headed out. 

He decided to swing through Queens for a bit before heading to work. And he was glad he did, because just as he had just turned back towards Manhattan, a text came from Detective Stacy. It was an address, and this short message:

_ “Come now. You need to see this.” _

Peter’s eyes widened. What had happened? Another victim? Anxiety started to build in his chest. 

He headed towards the address Stacy had given, only cringing a little when he noticed the time. This was probably going to make him late for work. 

It didn’t matter. Finding a killer was more important than clocking in on time. 

The building he arrived at was a six story brick apartment building, with small balconies jutting out street-side. It was obvious without asking which apartment the police were inside. Peter jumped to the right balcony and knocked on the sliding door. 

A police officer on the other side startled to look at him. His brown eyes were wide under the cap of his uniform. 

But before the officer could do anything, Stacy pushed past him and slid open the door. 

“Come in,” the detective said gruffly, his face serious. “Just — put these on.” He handed Peter a pair of paper shoe covers. 

Peter slipped them on without protest. “What’s going on?”

Stacy let out a deep breath and motioned for Peter to follow him. “It seems our killer has decided on a name for himself,” he said darkly. 

They walked to the other side of the apartment to the bedroom. 

As Peter stepped inside, his eyes widened and his blood ran cold.

He should have expected this. But it still came as a shock. His hands curled into fists unconsciously. 

On the floor lay a man on his side, his eyes open and unseeing. Dark blood soaked his front and pooled around his body, staining the carpet. 

And above him next to the window, the same dark red was smeared along the wall to form a word, the excess dripping down to the baseboard. 

Peter breathed it aloud:

_ “Carnage.” _


	10. Chapter 10

> “Path of Carnage in Queens Highlights Need for Institutional Reform”
> 
> By John Jameson & Michelle Jones 
> 
> Last night marked the latest in a series of murders within the Queens community by the killer now known as ‘Carnage.’ Maia Booker, a 23 year old grad student at Empire State University, was revealed as the 10th victim of the still-unidentified murderer. 
> 
> The murders in Queens have not only left a path of tragedy, but have also highlighted a need for change within the NYPD. Poor communication and slow response times have left community members unsure of whether they can turn to the police for support and protection. Even the involvement of Spider-Man has not been enough to provide a sense of security. 
> 
> “It’s a mess out here,” one resident, a neighbor to Maia Booker who made the 9-11 call that alerted police to her murder, reports. “It took an hour for the police to show.”
> 
> At a time when trust in the police is more important than ever, long-existing problems have begun to show themselves more obviously. 

Peter was distracted from reading when his phone began vibrating, and a name appeared on the screen.

He accepted the call, and Tony Stark’s face blinked into view.

“Hey, Tony. You’re calling early. Something up?” 

Tony raised an eyebrow.  _ “Nope. Not at all. I have no agenda here. Why would you think that?”  _

“Right,” Peter said doubtfully, noting the tone of Tony’s voice. Though he did relax a little knowing that whatever it was, it wasn’t too serious. “Likely story.” 

_ “Maybe I just wanted to share my breakfast with you. Ever thought of that?” _

Peter rolled his eyes. “Come on, out with it, Tony -- what is it? Need help putting up a shelf? Or did Gerald chew through the power lines again?” 

_ “No, it has nothing to do with Gerald,”  _ Tony replied. _ “More to do with you, actually.”  _

Peter picked up his bagel and took a bite, unconcerned. “What about me?” 

Tony cocked his head.  _ “About the fact that you’re part of the hunt to find a serial killer.”  _

“Ah, that.” 

_ “Were you not going to tell me?”  _

Peter shrugged. “I mean, I would’ve. It just hasn’t come up. I haven’t talked to you in a bit.” 

Tony scowled.  _ “So you’re actually involved in this?”  _

“God, May was worked up about this, too. I don’t get it,” Peter said. “Yes, I’m involved. And?” 

_ “And?”  _ Tony said. _ “Why do you have to deal with this? Aren’t my tax dollars funding some kind of police department?”  _

“This isn’t a normal thing,” Peter explained, picking at his bagel. “They’re in over their heads here.” 

_ “Oh yeah? And you aren’t?”  _

Peter shrugged. “Well, I’ve punched a few weirdos in the face during my time. This seems like a logical progression.” 

_ “This isn’t just some costumed weirdo, Peter. This guy is a psychopath!” _

“I had that worked out for myself, funny enough.” 

_ “And this isn’t something you would usually take on,”  _ Tony continued, ignoring him.  _ “This is a serial killer. You realize that by getting involved, you’re putting yourself on this freak’s radar?” _

Peter raised an eyebrow. “You’re mothering again, Tony. Take a breather.”

Tony scowled, but again ignored the comment.  _ “Does this have something to do with MJ? Because she’s writing those pieces about the murders for the  _ Chronicle?”

“What?” Peter said defensively. “No, it doesn’t. I got involved in this before I found out about that.” 

Tony narrowed his eyes.  _ “So, is that it, then? Instead of finding a rebound, you’re hunting down a sadistic serial killer.”  _

“Well, it doesn’t sound so heroic when you put it like that.” 

_ “Peter.”  _

Peter groaned. “Seriously, Tony. It’s not about that. I’m just trying to help out here. Can’t you believe that?” 

Tony huffed. 

“Why are you even grilling me about this?” he added, getting a little annoyed now. “Is there something else going on? Are you fighting with Pepper again or something?” 

Tony blinked guiltily.  _ “No.”  _

“Ah,” Peter chuckled. He could tell he’d hit something there. “So, instead of working things out with your spouse, you’re taking it out on me?” he ribbed. “What’d you do this time, anyway? Blow up the house?” 

Tony sighed and looked off to the left.  _ “No, it’s actually not Pepper. It’s Morgan.”  _

“Oh?” 

_ “Yeah,”  _ He looked back, an eyebrow raised.  _ “She’s giving me the silent treatment.”  _

Peter smiled, amused. “What did you do?” 

_ “I just tried to help her with her science project,”  _ Tony said defensively. After a moment he added out of the corner of his mouth,  _ “It might have gotten a little out of hand.”  _

“Oh, god,” Peter laughed.

_ “Yeah. She wanted to make an obstacle course for Manny -- you know, the beta fish we got her -- and I… may have ended up killing the fish. Accidentally.” _

Peter’s jaw dropped. “Oh, no.” 

Tony ran a hand through his hair.  _ “I was trying to put some lights in the water, and things short circuited a little. Manny got fried.”  _

“Oh, god.” Peter was torn between horror and laughter. “I don’t really blame her not talking to you, after that.” 

_ “I think I’ve been disowned.” _

“Again -- valid. You definitely traumatized her.” 

Tony threw his head back. _ “Ah, don’t say that, kid. I just -- any suggestions on how to make it up to her?”  _

“Go back in time?” Peter said wryly. 

Tony frowned.  _ “Don’t start with that.”  _

“Okay, well -- maybe try apologizing.” 

_ “Maybe I’ll just get her a new fish,”  _ Tony said.  _ “That couldn’t hurt.”  _

“Oh -- did you give the fish a funeral yet?” 

Tony looked up.  _ “No, I’ll do that. Good idea.”  _

Peter chuckled around another bite of bagel. “Okay. Glad we could work this out without you nagging at me.” 

_ “I don’t nag,”  _ Tony lied.  _ “And just because there’s a parallel problem going on here doesn’t mean I didn’t mean what I said. You’ve gotta be careful with this guy. Carnage, right?”  _

__ Peter sighed, already regretting bringing the issue back up. “I am being careful. I’m always careful.” 

Tony looked unimpressed. 

“Okay,” Peter allowed. “I’m mostly careful. But I’ll be extra careful with him. I promise.”

_ “Have you already forgotten you were in the hospital a few weeks ago?”  _

Peter groaned and almost let his head fall to the table. “No, I haven’t forgotten.”

_ “Okay, okay. I’ll stop,”  _ Tony relented.  _ “Just don’t be stupid, and I’ll be happy.”  _

“Yeah, I will,” Peter said, exasperated. 

_ “Good. And are you…”  _ his tone was a little gentler now.  _ “You know, good otherwise? How’s living with May?”  _

Peter bit at his lip and shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. Even he could hear the sharpness in his tone, though, and he tried to relax. “I’m good,” he added a little more sincerely. 

Tony looked doubtful, but he didn’t press the issue.  _ “Okay. _ ” Peter could tell he was gearing up to say goodbye.  _ “Well, have a good day at work, or whatever.”  _

“Gee, thanks,” Peter said with a smile. “Have a good day doing whatever it is you do with your time.” 

_ “Today I guess I’ll be trying to Frankenstein a fish.”  _

Peter snorted. “Let me know how that goes.” 

_ “Will do. Bye, Pete.” _

The call cut off, and Peter tucked his phone away before going to put his plate in the sink. Then he called out a goodbye to May, stuffed his clothes in his backpack, and headed out the alley-side window in his suit.

Peter couldn’t help feeling frustrated about the words of caution from both May and now Tony about working on the Carnage cases. They should know by now that he could take care of himself. 

At the same time though, he couldn’t really blame them for saying it. Even the details that made it to the press about the murders were gruesome and scary. Queens -- New York as a whole, really -- hadn’t seen a serial killer like this in decades. People were frightened. Peter had noticed a drop in the number of people hanging outside after dark, and going out on the weekends. The only spots that seemed unaffected were the more tourist-trafficked areas.

Since he’d started working with Detective Stacy, he’d followed more seedy characters than he could count. But they still hadn’t made any real progress in terms of figuring out who was behind the killings. 

And so yet another innocent person had been murdered. 

The only “progress” -- if you could call it that -- was that the murderer had started leaving behind the calling card of his name written in blood. Really, it just felt like whoever it was knew that they had almost nothing on him, and was getting more bold. 

It made Peter sick. 

And so lately he’d been putting work on the backburner, often showing up a little late in the mornings and not giving all of his energy into the project they were working on. It was hard to be focused on his job when Peter knew that Carnage was still out there, walking free and probably planning to kill again. 

Stacy usually called him once every few days with an update. They had only met in person a few times since Peter had offered his support. And when Peter had asked why he’d given up their new business relationship so quickly to the press, Stacy had told him that a persistent reporter from the  _ Chronicle  _ had pressed him on the matter until he’d slipped. Peter knew that he meant MJ.

Either way, though, the whole city knew about their collaboration now. And it hadn’t been as ill received as Stacy had feared, although Peter was sure the detective had gotten chewed out for it by his superiors behind the scenes. But public opinion favored their working together, and so there hadn’t been much fuss. 

On schedule, Stacy called as Peter was halfway to work.

Peter paused on a rooftop and accepted the call. 

“Hey,” he said. “What’s up, doc?” 

_ “Just updating you on something interesting,”  _ Stacy replied. 

Peter cocked his head. “What kind of interesting?” 

_ “It’s about the blood our killer’s been using to write his little messages on the walls. We assumed it was the victims’ blood.” _

“Yeah,” Peter prompted him to continue. 

_ “But… just to be sure, we compared blood samples, and the results just came in this morning.”  _

Peter’s eyes widened. “You’re saying --” 

_ “Yeah. The blood doesn’t match.”  _ Stacy sounded excited.  _ “But you know what does match? The blood from the two messages. Neither of them match the victim from their location, but they match each other.”  _

Peter’s thoughts were spinning, but as the detective spoke, a clear thought struck him. “It’s him,” he said. “The blood -- it’s from the murderer. That’s Carnage’s blood!” 

_ “That was my thought, too.”  _

“This is big,” Peter said quickly, pacing a little on the rooftop. “Have you started trying to find a match in the database?” 

Stacy scoffed.  _ “Who do you think I am? Of course I did. But, it’ll take a few days for us to find out if there’s anyone in the system who matches it. And…”  _

Peter came to the realization as Stacy was saying it. “And -- he probably won’t be there,” he finished. 

Stacy sounded resigned.  _ “Probably not. This guy -- he hasn’t left a single shred of himself behind on any previous crime scenes. You gotta be smart to achieve that. And now he’s writing in his own blood? I think he knows it won’t help us.”  _

“What if it’s meant to distract us?” Peter said. “What if -- what if the blood is from a third victim?” The thought disturbed him, but it wasn’t impossible. 

_ “Hmm. I hope that’s not it, really. But --”  _ Stacy grunted in thought.  _ “This would be a whole new ball game if that were the case.”  _

“We shouldn’t reject the idea too soon.” 

_ “No,”  _ Stacy agreed.  _ “But either way, this guy has escalated. This is a dangerous sign.”  _

“I know,” Peter agreed. Then he walked up to the edge of the roof and began walking down the side of the building. “I’ve gotta go. Call me if you get any hits on the blood, and let me know if there’s anyone else you want me to check out.” 

_ “Got it. I’m helping case neighborhoods today -- feel free to swing by if you can.”  _

Peter huffed a short laugh. “You really want Spider-Man knocking on doors?” He tried to imagine it. 

_ “I could use all the help I could get,”  _ Stacy said honestly. 

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Fair enough. I might be busy, though.” He brought his hand up to his ear to end the call. “Bye for now, detective!” 

He hung up the call, and jumped from the building. 

* * *

After stopping, once to help a guy fix his tire, and again to guide a blind woman around a pothole, Peter arrived at work only a few minutes late. He burst into the building, stuffing his mask away in his backpack and straightening his hair as he went. 

Toby wasn’t at their shared desk when he got there, and Peter figured he must be working in one of the labs that day. He was about to take a seat and settle in when he heard someone call his name. 

“Peter.” 

It was Dr. Aziz. The scientist waved him over towards his office, and Peter got up, wondering what this was about. 

He made his way into the office and Dr. Aziz closed the door behind him. 

“Morning, Peter,” Aziz said. He sat behind his desk and gestured to the chair on the other side. “Take a seat.”

Peter did so, feeling a little trepidation as he did. “Morning,” he replied. “Uh… what’s up?” 

Aziz took a deep breath, and moved some papers on the desk in front of him. “Peter,” he said levelly, “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay,” Peter said hesitantly, clenching his hands together in front of himself. He didn’t have a good feeling about this. 

Dr. Aziz looked steadily at him. Then he sighed. “I’m… Peter, I gotta say -- I’m disappointed in you.” 

Peter blinked. “Oh,” he said. 

Aziz continued, “When I brought you on, I had high expectations for you. You had such good recommendations from people I know and trust… I guess my expectations were too high.” 

“Dr. Aziz,” Peter said helplessly, trying to fix the situation. “I -- I’m sorry. I’ve been working hard --” 

Aziz cut him off. “But have you?” he said shortly. “Have you really? To be honest, I rarely see you working here anymore.” 

It left Peter unstable to see the usually calm and pleasant Aziz so worked up -- and over him. “I know I’ve been absent lately, but it’s not because I don’t want to be here. I really love and respect the work we’re doing here. I just… I’ve had a hard time lately...” He fought to think of a way to explain himself.

The scientist just sighed again from behind his desk. “Don’t try to come up with excuses, now. I don’t need to hear that.” 

Peter’s mouth snapped shut guiltily. 

“I don’t doubt that whatever you’re doing when you aren’t here is important to you. Maybe important to other people, too. But -- I hired you so you could devote time and energy to  _ this  _ place.” Aziz tapped the surface of his desk.  _ “This  _ place should be important to you. Everyone here is working for a cause. I hire people who I think can be passionate about what we do. And… I don’t see that in you anymore. I did once, but now -- you’re just absent.”

Peter stuttered, “I’m so sorry. I --” 

“No, Peter,  _ I’m _ sorry,” Dr. Aziz said, shaking his head. “It’s obvious you’re smart as a whip, and you’re great to have around when you  _ are _ here -- but the truth is that you’re just unreliable. And… I have to let you go.”

Peter just looked at him, gutted. 

“There are plenty of people who would kill to have your position,” Dr. Aziz continued. “I can’t afford to keep someone on staff who I don’t even know will show up to work.” 

“But, I can do better,” Peter said desperately. “Please, just give me another chance. I swear, I’ll be here every day. I’ll do the job well.” 

Dr. Aziz just shook his head, looking regretful. “I already gave you a warning about this a month ago. I wish it were different, because I do like you, Peter. You’re a good kid, and you’re smart. You’re just not dependable.”

Peter opened his mouth to speak again, but Aziz cut him off. “I’d appreciate it if you could wrap up or pass on what you’ve been working on. Someone will be in contact with you with paperwork. You can drop your badge off at the front desk,” he added. “I really am sorry.” 

The words were said with a disturbing finality to them, and Peter knew that nothing he said would be able to turn this around for him. Not right now. 

His shoulders dropped. “Oh,” he said. Then he swallowed, and stood. Before he walked out, he added, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. And I understand. I do have a lot of respect for you, and the work we’ve been doing. I hope… I hope someday I can make it up to you. Thanks -- for everything.” 

Then with one final nod, he turned and walked out of the office, Aziz’s disappointed sigh rising behind him. 

Peter walked slowly back to his desk, grateful beyond measure that Toby wasn’t over there today.

He shouldn’t have been so surprised, but he was. Yeah, he’d been coming into work late pretty regularly, and he’d missed a couple of days altogether. That wasn’t good. But  _ fired?  _ That’s not something he expected from an understanding guy like Dr. Aziz. 

Peter supposed everyone had their limits, and he’d crossed his. 

As he collapsed in his desk chair, he let out a sharp breath and ran a hand through his hair, still processing the moment. 

He took a while to just stare at the wall, and wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he came back to himself. 

Then he looked around at his desk. He didn’t have much there. Most of what he kept at his station was stuff that he’d gotten from the supply room at the lab, and it didn’t feel right taking that with him. All that he had to take away was a few books, his computer, and --

Peter spotted a photograph taped to the back left corner. He’d put it there when he’d first arrived at Darcorps, and over the months it had gotten hidden by clutter and paperwork. He pulled it out and brushed the dust off. 

It was a picture of him and MJ from graduation, standing in front of the Empire State University sign in their caps and gowns. The sun was bright, and they were both smiling wide. His arm was tight around MJ’s waist. 

Peter let out a sigh through his nose. 

How had so much changed since then? In the glow of graduation, it had felt like anything was possible, and that good things were headed his way. Instead, now he seemed to be failing at everything.

Peter wavered for a moment with his hand over the trash can before folding up the photo quickly and stuffing it in the space between his phone and its case. He’d throw it away later. 

He wanted to leave immediately, but even after Aziz telling him how he felt he didn’t want to leave without wrapping up what he’d been working on. He spent the next few hours closing out or passing on his current projects. It was easier to do than he expected -- or wanted. Eventually, he got his stuff together, stood, and left his desk behind. 

The walk out of the office holding his things was humiliating. Several people sent him contrite glances or short little waves. Apparently word had gotten around quick. Peter just tried to keep his head down. 

But when Toby caught sight of him from one of the work stations and headed towards him, he paused. 

“No way,” Toby said as he got closer, taking in his face and his box of things. “You really got the boot?” 

Peter nodded mutely. 

Toby raised his eyebrows. “Geez. I can’t say I saw that one coming, even if you’ve been gone a lot lately. Sorry, man. That really sucks.” 

“Yeah,” Peter replied, strangely feeling a little amused. “Yeah, it does.” 

Toby let out an apologetic chuckle. “Sorry. I’m not good with this kind of thing.” He stuck his hand out. “Sorry to see you go, Peter. You were a good desk mate.” 

Peter shifted his box into one hand and reached out to shake Toby’s. “Thanks, dude. I appreciate that.”

Toby shifted back. “If you need anything -- you can give me a call.” He kept stepping back towards where he’d been working. “Take care, Peter. Don’t be a stranger!” 

Peter threw him one last short wave. “Thanks. See ya, Toby.”

The man disappeared back behind the work station, and Peter finished his walk of shame. 

* * *

May was sitting on the couch watching TV when he returned to the apartment, and she looked up at him in confusion. 

“Peter? You’re home early.” Then she spotted the things in his hands. “Everything okay?” 

Peter dropped his stuff and collapsed on the couch with a groan. 

“Oh no,” May said, her face softening. 

“I got fired,” Peter confirmed dully. 

May looked sympathetic. “Oh, Peter. No.” 

“Yup,” Peter said with a sigh, popping the ‘p’. 

She scooted closer to him. “What happened? Why?” 

Peter shrugged carelessly. “I’ve been late too much, and missed days. My boss thinks I don’t care.”

“Why have you been missing days? Spider-Man?” 

Peter shrugged again, and then nodded. “Kinda got wrapped up in this case… work just fell off the radar. I guess I should’ve expected this.” 

“I’m sorry, Peter,” May said. “I know it’s hard to balance those things.”

“Agh,” Peter moaned. “Why does it feel like my whole life is falling apart? First MJ dumps me, and now I get fired…” he groaned and put his head in his hands. “I don't know what to do,” he finished, muffled. 

“You’ll be okay, Peter,” May said, scooching over and rubbing his back. “Everybody has times like this.”

“Sorry, by the way,” Peter said, looking up. “Having no income probably won’t help the apartment search.”

May just smiled. “You know,” she said slowly, “while I was in college I had a similar experience. I was in the city for the summer before senior year. I had this friend who kept saying she’d get me a job where she was working, but she never actually came through.” She shook her head. “So I was lonely, and so broke I started eating the free community meals they served at the church.” She caught his eye with a smile. “Every Thursday they served spaghetti with the wateriest marinara sauce I’d ever seen.  _ Every time.  _ I still get flashbacks sometimes.”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh. 

May continued, “But eventually I managed to get a job and applied to nursing school. Wouldn’t be too long before I met Ben. And then you came into our lives.” She ruffled his hair. “So just know that things won’t be bad forever. Especially for a kid like you. You won’t be down long. It’s just that the hard times feel the longest.” She smiled softly. “What is it they say? ‘It’s darkest just before the dawn.’”

Peter smiled back at her, warming at her assurances. “Thanks, May. Have I told you you’re the best?” 

“Not lately, no. I could stand to hear it more.” 

“Well, you’re the best.” 

“Thanks, Peter. You’re also the best.” May reached her hand up and combed her fingers through his hair. After a moment she pulled back and looked at her fingers, then back up at him. “You’re still using too much gel,” she told him, raising her eyebrows.

_ “May,”  _ Peter groaned. 

“I’m just saying,” May continued, amused, “Maybe that’s why MJ broke up with you. You’re too flammable.” 

Peter flopped backwards on the couch dramatically. 

“I’m  _ kidding,”  _ she said, standing and wiping her hand off on her pants. “Though, not about the gel. You should cool it with the hair products.” 

_ “You _ should cool it with the -- the telling me to cool it,” Peter shot back.

May just raised an eyebrow. “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that. For your ego’s sake.” 

“Fine,” he mumbled, fighting a smile from his lips. “Can we get Mexican for dinner?” 

May started walking towards the kitchen. “Why don’t you cook us some dinner? Everyone should learn to cook a few good meals for themselves. It’s time you did.” 

Peter twisted so he could track her movement. “Well, can you help me?” he asked. 

“Sure, Peter. Why don’t we make pasta, though? I’ll show you how it’s really done. Italian style.” 

He pushed himself to his feet and followed her to the kitchen. “Okay, I’m in,” he said. 

May grinned at him. “Great. Grab an apron, kid. This is gonna be fun.”

* * *

Peter laid back in his twin bed, looking up at the dark ceiling. He’d had the top bunk of his bed taken off a few years earlier after he’d accidentally pulled down on it too hard and it broke. Now he could watch the shadows playing on his ceiling, just like he had in their old apartment. Each car that passed by on the street sent a wave of light over the ceiling. The noise of the city buzzed through the glass like a white noise machine. Every twenty minutes or so he could hear the train rumbling down the tracks a few blocks away. 

Usually, the familiar noise and lights helped lull Peter to sleep. But that night he couldn’t seem to relax. He couldn’t stop thinking. 

And what he was thinking was that he was a failure. 

Peter wasn’t trying to be dramatic, that was just the truth as he could see it. After all, he was twenty-two, for Christ’s sake. He shouldn’t be back living in his childhood bedroom with his aunt -- no matter how much he loved May. It was nice to spend a little more time with her again, but at the same time it felt like some of his independence and growth had been stripped away. 

Now he didn’t even have a job. What kind of person did that make him, that he’d just been  _ fired?  _

And MJ… Peter heaved a heavy sigh and felt his emotions swell. God, he missed her so much. After living with her for so long, and spending so much of his life with her, it was like someone had torn out a space next to him. 

All of his plans for the future, all of his dreams -- they had involved her. He didn’t even know how to look at his future knowing that she wasn’t going to be in it. 

He wondered how MJ was doing -- if she was hurting as much as he was. Peter knew how deeply she felt things, and some dirty part of him hoped she was hurting. Not because he wanted her to be in pain, really, but just because that might make his feelings a little less pathetic. 

Plus, a dirty part of him was frustrated that he’d lost his job while she was moving up in hers. 

Peter felt like shit. Like worse than shit. 

His mind slipped to Carnage. At least with his job out of the way, he’d have more time than ever to try and track down the killer. 

Something bright and firey swelled in his gut at the thought of catching him. If he could just find this guy, maybe he could fix things. He could prove he wasn’t a failure; could prove he was capable. Then he could go back to his normal life -- get a new job, and maybe get MJ back. 

Peter let out a short breath, and glanced over at the window. 

No, he thought. It was already late.

But then… what did he have to be awake for tomorrow? 

Before he knew it, Peter was back in his suit, crawling out the window and into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to the people reading this!   
> Next week: a little Thanksgiving episode!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Here’s a chapter full of fluffy holiday goodness — hope you enjoy!

Thanksgiving had always been one of Peter’s favorites. And not because of the food -- although that didn’t hurt. It was about the simplicity of it. It was a holiday just for thanking the people that you loved, and appreciating what they did for you. For spending time with those people. Plus, it didn’t come with all the consumerism of Christmas. It was simple, and sweet. 

For the last few years, Peter and May (and MJ) had gone upstate for Thanksgiving to the Stark cabin. But this year May was determined for them to have their own quality holiday time. Peter supposed it was fair, since they also usually visited the Starks for Christmas as well. 

Still, a few days before Thanksgiving he asked May:

“You sure you don’t want to go up to the cabin? I’m sure they won’t mind if we tell them last minute.” 

May had just smiled and shaken her head. “No, we’re good. We’ll be there for Christmas in just a couple weeks. I wanna hang out with  _ you  _ this week.” 

Peter had nodded happily. “Okay. Sounds good to me.” 

“It’ll be so good to spend some quality time with you,” she’d said with a smile, nudging him with her elbow. 

Peter had chuckled. “What do you mean? I’ve been living here -- I see you all the time.” 

“Okay, sure -- for breakfast, maybe. But you’re gone all day, and I’ve had the night shift recently… I feel like we haven’t really seen all that much of each other.” 

He’d shrugged. “Oh, yeah -- I guess.”

May’s knowing glance in response had left the matter in no debate. And so, on Thanksgiving day the two of them had loaded up on supplies at the grocery store and settled into the kitchen for a long day of cooking. 

May was the commander of the ship, telling him how to do things and when. The only thing she let him do without supervision was the chopping. But honestly, the day was like a crash course in cooking, even more so than the other little lessons May had sprinkled in over the last few weeks, and he appreciated it. Either way, it was nice to not be able to dwell on anything other than the state of various vegetables. 

Eventually they reached a lull where they were waiting for a few things to cook, including the potatoes boiling on the stove.

“So, Peter…” May wiped her hands off on a kitchen towel and leaned back against the countertop, her air casual. “Have you been thinking about what you want to do?” 

Peter glanced away from the stovetop to look at her, confused. “What do you mean?” 

May raised her eyebrows. “I mean, have you thought about making plans? For the future?” 

“Oh,” Peter said. “That.” He looked back at the potatoes, hoping maybe he’d see an answer in the depths of the pot. “Um… not really, no.” 

May crossed her arms. “Right. Okay. Well, let’s try and brainstorm together, then. What do you think you’d like to do?” 

He shrugged, feeling a little foolish. “I… I don’t know.” 

“Okay,” May chuckled softly. “Well, as much as I love having you around, Peter -- you can’t stay here forever. I’m happy to have you stay as long as you need, but in return you gotta actually have a plan, or a goal. Does that sound fair?” 

Peter sighed, a smile pulling on his lips. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“Good,” May said simply. 

“I’ve just been focused on Carnage…” 

“Yeah, I know. And that’s important, obviously. But,” she gave him a rueful smile. “You have to have more in your life than just Spider-Man, Peter. You gotta have something that’s  _ yours.” _

Peter frowned a little. “Spider-Man  _ is  _ mine,” he said defensively. 

May raised her hands placatingly. “Yes, that’s true. But it’s something that you can’t  _ claim  _ as yours. Not unless you want to take off that mask.” 

“Not a chance,” Peter said instantly. 

“Like I thought. So… who are you, outside of Spider-Man? What do you want to do?” 

He stirred the potatoes a little more, considering the question, and then stepped back from the stove. “I guess I could go back to school?” he said uncertainly. 

“Okay,” May replied supportively. “What would you study?” 

“Engineering? Computer science?” 

May nodded. “What’s your dream job?” she asked. 

Peter let out a breath. “I mean, I do like what I was involved in. Designing medical equipment, you know? It kind of felt like the perfect cross between engineering, biology, and helping people.”

“Okay. Well, I’m sure there are plenty of projects you could be a part of. You could even do that along with going back to school. There’s no shame in getting an internship again, if that’s what you need to do. Then you can get a degree in — what is it called? Biomedical…?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. Biomedical engineering.” He thought that over. Honestly, the idea of getting a higher degree was enticing. Plus, that kind of degree would help him get more on the development side of things and less on the ‘fixing up hundreds of lines of code’ side of things. “That’s… not a bad idea,” he told May finally. 

May looked self-satisfied. “Why, thank you. I happen to have some not-bad ideas occasionally.”

“Can you help me? Look for schools, I mean?”

“Sure,” she said graciously. “I mean, I don’t think I know more than you do about where to get that kind of degree, but of course.”

As the picture formed more clearly in his head, Peter found himself smiling a little bit. School had always been more of an obligation for him after he’d started being Spider-Man. In a lot of moments, he’d chosen the responsibilities of Spider-Man over his school work. But there was something about this idea that made him excited. Maybe it was just the fact that he felt he had a little better grasp on his future, but either way, it felt good. 

He was about to say something else when his phone started ringing. 

As he pulled it out of his pocket, May patted him on the shoulder and left the room. 

Peter glanced at the caller ID, and smiled as he answered the phone. “Hey, Johnny! Happy Thanksgiving!”

_ “Yeah, Happy turkey day, Pete,”  _ Johnny replied cheerfully.  _ “I ever tell you this is my favorite holiday?”  _

Peter chuckled. “Mine, too. One of them, anyway.” 

_ “Oh yeah? I should’ve known, honestly. We both care too much about pie.”  _

“Pie and stuffing,” Peter said happily. “If I had to, I could go without the rest of it.” 

Johnny hummed in agreement. 

“Is Sue leading the charge in the kitchen? I bet she makes some good Thanksgiving dinner.” 

_ “Yeah, she’s kind of the director of the whole thing, but she makes us help. I’m supposed to be making green beans right now.”  _

Peter shrugged. “Doesn’t sound too bad.” 

Johnny laughed.  _ “Yeah, I think she gave me the one that’s hardest to fuck up. Honestly -- it’s deserved.”  _

“We should both go to culinary boot camp,” Peter agreed. “I’ve been helping May with dinner, but she won’t let me do anything without her checking it first.”

_ “Classic,”  _ Johnny said with a chuckle. Then his tone changed.  _ “Hey, by the way -- I wanted to tell you that I’m gonna be gone for a while with the FF. We’re leaving tomorrow morning. So… I guess you’ll have to learn to fend for yourself out there, hotshot.” _

“Where are you going?” Peter asked, absently stirring the potatoes a little more. “Beach vacation?” 

_ “I wish,” _ Johnny said.  _ “Nah, we’re going to Risa. Apparently there’s some huge volcano eruption we have to stop.”  _

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Is that… a country?” 

_ “It’s a planet, web-head,”  _ Johnny said with a snort.  _ “You know, for a smart guy you can be real dumb sometimes.”  _

The way Johnny spoke so casually about space travel was impressive. “Right, of course. Well, what can I say? My knowledge of geography kind of fades by the time I cross the Hudson.” Peter paused. “When will you be back?” 

_ “Dunno,”  _ Johnny replied.  _ “Might be a minute, though. You know how it goes.”  _

“Yeah. Well, cool. It’ll be nice to know I won’t accidentally see your ugly face for a while.” 

_ “Right back at you, Spider-Boy.”  _ Johnny shot back.  _ “I’d say call me to keep me updated, but we probably can’t get calls where we’re going. I don’t think it’ll go through unless your carrier is intergalactic.” _

“Ah, I knew I should’ve updated my cell plan. Silly me.” 

Johnny snorted.  _ “Remind me to bring some lava back to throw in your face.” _

“Will do, Johnny,” Peter grinned. “Have fun in space, then! Don’t get lost on the way to Uranus!” 

He could almost hear Johnny roll his eyes.  _ “Bye, Pete.” _

“Tell your family Happy Thanksgiving from me, too,” Peter added quickly. 

_ “Yeah, same,”  _ Johnny said. 

Peter hung up the phone and put it down on the countertop, shaking his head to himself. 

“Who was that?” May asked as she walked back into the kitchen. 

“Johnny,” Peter said. “He says ‘Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Johnny Storm?” May asked. “You still hanging out with that kid?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Against my better judgement, yes. What can I say? He’s fun.”

May looked at him appraisingly. “Are you two… you know…?” She made an indecipherable hand gesture and raised her eyebrows high. 

Peter chuckled at her attempt. “Are you trying to ask if I’m dating him? Is that what that means? You could just ask.”

May flushed a little, embarrassed, but held her ground. “So? Are you?”

“No,” Peter said, snorting. “I mean… not to say I’ve never, you know —” he mimicked the hand gesture May had done. “But no. We’re just friends.”

She raised her hands in front of herself. “Okay, okay, we’re moving into territory I don’t need to hear about. I support you, but you can stop there.”

“What?” Peter replied sassily. “You asked.”

May just shook her head, amused. “Eyes back on the stove, mister.”

* * *

A few hours later, the two were relaxing on the couch, each with a glass of wine in hand. Peter felt more full than he’d felt in a long time. It was his fault, though. He’d eaten probably a whole bread loaf worth of stuffing. 

But while his stomach was uncomfortably full, Peter felt more content than he had for a long time, too. He’d missed hanging out with May. She’d regaled him with tales of Thanksgivings long ago, when she and Ben had just gotten together, and in return he’d told her about that one time he and Harry had tried to cook a turkey in the microwave for Friends-giving. (Spoiler alert: it didn’t end well)

So when he felt his phone buzz with a text, he expected it to be someone wishing a happy Thanksgiving. He just didn’t expect it to be… MJ. 

Peter felt himself freeze as he looked down at the text. It was the first real bit of communication MJ had sent him in weeks. The times he’d tried to call her had gone straight to voicemail, and the hopefully not desperate sounding texts he’d sent were left unresponded to. 

And yet, there it was. Just a simple holiday greeting, no embellishments. 

His hand clenched down harder on his phone, and he forced himself to relax. 

It didn’t mean anything. Really, it didn’t. 

But still, those warring emotions rose up in him again. 

He shoved the phone away and took a sip of wine. 

When he looked over at May, he saw that she was studying him carefully. She seemed to understand what just happened — or at least, that something had just happened. 

Instead of asking about it point blank, though, she just took a sip of her wine. Eventually, she asked, a little hesitantly, “So… how have you been, recently? With… everything.”

Peter shrugged and answered automatically. “Fine, I guess.” 

May raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

Peter let a breath out of his nose and took another sip of his drink, trying to avoid answering as long as possible. 

May pressed on. “I just mean… you’ve taken a lot of hits lately, and I want to know how you’re holding up.” Her face was open and sincere. “So, don’t lie to me, okay?” 

Peter let out a breath as he looked back at her. Then he looked away towards the window. The sky he could see through the window was grey and cold, the last light from the day starting to fade. “Um… I guess I haven’t been having the best time of it,” he admitted. He pressed his lips together. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“That’s saying something,” May encouraged. “It’s good to admit it. I mean, anyone would be feeling down. You’ve had a lot on your plate.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I… it’s been a lot.”

“Have you… talked with MJ, at all?” She asked gently. “The two of you have broken up in the past. Maybe —”

“I haven’t heard from her,” he said, almost icily. He tried to relax. May meant well, after all. “It seems real, this time,” he added, softer. 

May nodded knowingly. “Well, there’s no shame in missing her.”

“I don’t miss her,” Peter said defensively. 

May raised an eyebrow at him knowingly. 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay,” he said with a sigh. “Maybe I do miss her.” 

“I know you do, sweetie,” May said with an understanding smile. “And you’re allowed to. MJ was a huge part of your life for a long time. When people leave your life it’s understandable to grieve.” 

“Grieve?” Peter repeated, frowning. “What? She’s not dead.” 

“No, obviously she’s not. But sometimes your heart doesn’t really know the difference. Something in your life has come to an abrupt end. You’re allowed to miss it.” 

Peter considered that, and sighed. “I just… I kind of thought I was gonna end up marrying her,” he revealed quietly. 

May reached over and squeezed his arm. “Oh, Peter. You’re such a good kid.” 

Peter snorted and looked over at her. “Am I really?” he said dryly. “All evidence lately is pointing to the contrary.” 

“Oh, come on,” May replied. “Yes you are. You’re the best kid.”

He pressed his lips together. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Feels like I do everything wrong lately.” 

“You’re not the first person who’s felt that way,” May said. “I think everyone has times in their life like this. I know I have. But you just gotta remember what you have, and push through it the best you can.” 

Peter nodded.

“And you know you’ve always got me, right?” May added with a smile. 

“Yeah, I know,” Peter said. He felt overcome suddenly with a wave of gratitude. “Thank you, May,” he said. “For everything.” 

“Well, you’re welcome.”

“Honestly. You are… the best.”

May flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Why, thank you, sir,” she said importantly. 

Peter’s phone buzzed again then, and he answered it immediately when he saw who it was. 

_ “Peter!”  _ An excited voice came through the line, and Peter leaned in to see Morgan’s face taking up the screen. 

“Hey, Mo! Happy Thanksgiving!” 

She grinned, and Peter saw that she had a tooth missing from her smile.  _ “Look!” _ she said, pointing at where her canine used to be.  _ “I lost a tooth! It came off when I was eating turkey!” _

Peter laughed. “It’s a Thanksgiving miracle!”

_ “Is that Pete I hear?”  _ Another voice said, and Tony came into frame. The man looked relaxed and happy as he took the phone from Morgan.  _ “Did you call him, Morguna? How did you open my phone?”  _

_ “I don’t know,”  _ Morgan said innocently, her voice sounding a little farther away. 

_ “Little trickster,”  _ Tony chuckled, and held up the phone higher.  _ “Everybody, say hi -- It’s Peter!” _

Peter smiled wider as he saw the cosy scene -- Tony had always been big about Thanksgiving, and it was clear he’d invited everyone: Happy sat next to Pepper on the couch, Rhodey was by the fire with a glass in his hand, and even Helen Cho was there with her new husband. They all waved and chorused their hellos. 

“Hey, everybody!” Peter waved back. “Happy Thanksgiving!” 

_ “Happy Thanksgiving!”  _

The phone settled back on Tony’s face.  _ “Is May there?”  _

“Hey, Tony!” May replied. Peter turned the phone on her and she raised her glass of wine towards him. “Happy Thanksgiving!” 

_ “Hey! You, too, May.”  _

Peter spotted something through the window behind Tony’s shoulder. “Whoa, did it snow up there?” he asked.

Tony looked over his shoulder out the window.  _ “Oh, yeah, it did snow a little last night. Can you believe it? I had to shovel the walk and it’s not even December.”  _

Peter shook his head. “The audacity.” 

_ “Honestly,”  _ Tony replied.  _ “How was your Thanksgiving eating?”  _

Peter shared a glance with May. “Well, the dinner was good,” he said.

_ “Oh, no,”  _ Tony said with a chuckle as he sat down on the couch.  _ “What happened?” _

“May decided to keep up her track record with pies,” he ribbed. “So instead of pumpkin we had burnt husk.” 

“Hey,” May said in mock offense, giving Peter a little shove with her foot. “At least there wasn’t a fire this time.” 

_ “I’d call that a win,”  _ Tony determined, and May laughed in agreement.

_ “We had a bit of a mishap, too,”  _ Pepper said as she leaned into frame.  _ “Morgan accidentally ate a whole pot of mashed potatoes before she lost her tooth.”  _

“Yeah, I heard about the tooth,” Peter replied. “Is the tooth fairy gonna come tonight?” 

_ “I don’t know,”  _ Tony said slowly.  _ “It  _ is  _ a holiday. She might have the day off.”  _

_ “Dad!”  _ Morgan whined from offscreen. 

Tony smiled.  _ “Alright, alright -- I’ll give her a call. We can pay her overtime or something.” _

Pepper just shook her head fondly.

_ “We’re about to watch some Christmas movies and eat more pie. Wanna watch Rudolph with us? I could send it to your TV.”  _

Peter shook his head. “No, no. I’ve told you this before -- you can’t watch Christmas movies at least until it’s December. Thanksgiving is way too early. What kind of animal are you?” 

_ “The holiday loving kind,”  _ Tony replied. There was mirth in his eyes.  _ “Come on, it already feels like Christmas here. There’s snow on the ground!” _

Peter just raised an eyebrow. 

_ “Alright, alright, ya Grinch. Well, don’t let it be said that I didn’t try.”  _

“Oh, of course not,” Peter said graciously. “The world should know about the good that you do for them, Tony. It’s truly inspirational.” 

Pepper and May laughed, and Tony just rolled his eyes. 

_ “Oh,”  _ Tony said suddenly.  _ “Before I forget -- Pepper and I are going to this clean energy conference, so we’re gonna be in the city next weekend. You wanna grab lunch or something?”  _

“Yeah, of course,” Peter said, excited. “Just text me the details.” 

_ “Nice.”  _ Tony raised an eyebrow mischievously.  _ “I guess since you’re out of a job you can work around  _ our  _ schedules now.” _

_ “Tony!”  _ Pepper chided. 

_ “What?”  _ he said innocently.  _ “Too soon?”  _

Peter just chuckled. “All’s forgiven if you pay for the meal.” 

_ “Deal,”  _ Tony said instantly.  _ “Alright -- we’ve got a little date with Frosty the Snowman, so I gotta let you go. Happy Thanksgiving you two.”  _

“Love you guys,” Peter said. 

_ “Love you too, kid. Say bye, Morgan!”  _

_ “Bye!”  _ Morgan called. The others in the room echoed the farewell, and with one last smile, Tony hung up. 

After a moment, Peter looked up to see May watching him, an amused look on her face. 

“What?” Peter said. 

May just shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “Just that -- who would’ve thought that we’d be on Tony Stark’s Thanksgiving call list?” 

“Technically, Morgan called,” Peter smirked. “But yeah, it is crazy whenever I think about it too much.”

“What a life, huh?” May said with a chuckle, raising her glass. 

Peter mirrored her and raised his own. “You can say that again.”

May took a sip, then leaned back further into the couch. “Alright. Turn something on, so I can properly fall into my food coma.”

Peter laughed and did just that. As the TV flickered on, he reveled in the holiday feeling, and wished silently that it was this easy every day. 

Of course for him, that was as laughable as May’s attempts at baking. 


	12. Chapter 12

“So... as I was saying, mister, I’d like to know about Carnage.” 

Peter was perched on the brick side of a building, a wide-eyed man held in his hands by the neck of his jacket. He pitched his voice low as he attempted to be menacing. It shouldn’t take much -- they were already fifty feet up. Gravity was on his side. 

The guy scoffed breathlessly as he looked to the ground and back up again. “You don’t scare me, Spidey… you wouldn’t drop…” 

“Guess what, genius?” Peter cut him off sharply, cocking his head. “My arm is kinda sore from dragging you up here… and you’re getting pretty heavy.” He loosened his fingers a bit on his jacket and the man slipped down a bit. 

His eyes bugged out, and he gasped, “No, no! I’ll talk! But I -- I --” 

_ “What?”  _ Peter snapped. 

“I don’t know nothin’! I swear! All I saw was the body, that’s all!” He grasped at Peter’s hands. “Please, I promise I didn’t see nothin’ more.” 

Peter squinted down at him. “You see anyone by the body? Anyone at all?” 

A spark of fear different from the man’s current panic flashed in his eyes. He hesitated for a moment, and then shook his head. “No.” 

Peter wasn’t convinced. “Who did you see?” 

“I didn’t see anybody!” The guy said, shaking his head frantically. 

“Whatever,” Peter huffed. “Say I believe you. Which I don’t, by the way. Why are you still hanging around that alley?”

“I was leaving!” 

“Didn’t look like it to me.” Peter stared down at the man. “Don’t make me --” 

“Chill, man!” the guy said desperately. “I don’t know anything else!”

Peter sighed shortly. It was obvious this guy didn’t want to talk. And anyway, he had somewhere to be. “Alright then.” He let go with one hand, and, ignoring the guy’s scared yell, lowered them down on a web to the sidewalk. When they were settled on the ground, he let go of the guy’s jacket. “Thank you for cooperation, sir,” he said with a condescending pat on the shoulder. “Let me know if you think of anything else.”

The guy just stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before he backed away suddenly and ran off down the street. 

Peter raised an eyebrow as he watched him go. He spotted a couple people staring at him from the other side of the street, and tossed them a sloppy solute. Then he jumped and ran up the building next to him. A minute later he was swinging through the streets, headed for Midtown. 

He didn’t like these kinds of interrogations, but at this point there wasn’t really another option. People were still getting killed, and they had nothing to go off save for the murmurings of people he could find in back alleys. And that still wasn’t getting them anywhere. It was infuriating.

Peter flipped through the air before he webbed the first section of the Queensboro Bridge and started swinging through.

No one had witnessed the killings. Or, if they had, they weren’t talking. The only interesting thing that Peter could see was the pattern of people’s reactions to the murders. Everyone was scared. They just weren’t talking. 

He let out a breath and pushed it out of his mind for now. He had a lunch date to get to. 

* * *

“Did you hear what the Avengers are up to?” Tony said. 

The two of them were sitting in the New Avengers Tower kitchen, eating burgers that Tony’d had delivered. Tony was in town with Pepper for some conference, and had made time to meet him for lunch.

Peter took a bite of his burger and shook his head. “What?” 

“Apparently they’re off in Japan, fighting some rash of sea monsters or something.” Tony shook his head amusedly. “How silly does that sound?”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Sea monsters? What, like Pacific Rim?” 

“I don’t understand that reference, but I’m gonna say yes.” Tony picked up a french fry. “Wilson told me that it’s gonna take a while for them to get it under control.” He scoffed. “Man, I do not envy them that.” 

“Did he send you pictures?” Peter asked, curious. 

Tony stuck the fry in his mouth and shot Peter a look. “Yes, of course he did. You know Wilson.” He grabbed his phone and brought up a picture of a giant sea serpent looking creature. 

“Eugh,” Peter reacted. “Very cool, but also very… slimy looking.” 

Tony considered it. “Yeah, I thought so too.” 

“Oh,” Peter said, remembering. “How’d things go with Mo and the fish?” 

Tony tucked his phone away and scratched at his forehead. “Yeah, not so good. She still hasn’t forgiven me. Not like I really blame her, I guess.”

“You did turn Manny into sushi,” Peter agreed. 

“More like fish and chips,” Tony argued. “But yeah. Pepper thinks we should get her a cat to make up for it.” 

“A cat?” 

“That was my reaction. How do you graduate from fish to cat so quickly? Why can’t we get some in between animal first, like a snake or something?”

Peter raised an eyebrow skeptically. “You really think Morgan would go for a snake?” 

“Guinea pig!” Tony suggested. “Rat! But no -- we’re probably gonna get a cat. Great.” 

“Have you ever had a pet like that before? Like a dog or a cat?” Peter asked as he took another bite. 

Tony shrugged, and leaned back in his chair. “Nah, not even as a kid. My mother was allergic to cats, and Dad was allergic to fun. I’m allergic to picking up poop, which is why I’ve never bothered with one.” 

“I feel like it can’t be  _ that  _ bad.” 

“How would you know? You haven’t had a pet, either.” 

Peter tilted his head in agreement. “Okay, fair. But at least I managed to keep a fish alive for longer than a month.” 

“You know, some people kill fish for fun.” 

“Yeah, when they’re going to eat them.” Peter laughed. “Just get her the cat. It’ll be fun! But -- can I be there when the little kitten comes home? They’re so cute and tiny!” 

Tony sighed. “Yeah, sure you can.” 

“Yes!”

Tony rolled his eyes, and popped another french fry in his mouth. “So...” he said. “How’s the search for Carnage going? You find him yet?” 

Peter’s face fell. “Smooth. No, I haven’t found him,” he said sharply. “You know that.” 

“What have you been doing?” Tony asked directly. “How do you even work with the police?” 

He put his burger down on his plate, and shrugged. “Mostly I kind of… follow people. Suspects of theirs.”

“Follow people? That doesn’t sound creepy at all. And how’s that working out for you?” 

Peter scowled. “Obviously it’s going great,” he said sarcastically. 

“How do you find someone who doesn’t show his face? And doesn’t even leave any evidence of himself at the crime scenes?” 

Peter frowned. “How do you know that?”

Tony just looked at him. “You really think I didn’t hack into the files about this case as soon as I figured out you were working on it?” 

Peter just rolled his eyes. “Great.” 

“Seriously, though -- walk me through this -- how are you investigating this? What are they asking you to do?” Tony leaned forward, his elbows on the table. 

“Detective Stacy gives me people who he thinks might know something about what’s going on, and I try and find them to figure out what it is that they know. But…” he shook his head. “Honestly, it’s been weird.  _ No one  _ seems to know who this guy is.”

Tony shrugged. “How is that weird? I feel like these kinds of people usually work alone.” 

“Yeah, but it’s weird that absolutely no one has seen this guy. There have been killings on the street -- you’d think there’d be a witness.” 

“This guy must be good at not being seen.” 

Peter nodded, scratching the side of his face. “Yeah. But… the people I’ve talked to… they’re  _ scared,  _ too. Like, really scared.” 

“Well, think about it this way,” Tony said, leaning forward. “The kinds of people you’ve been looking into -- they’re probably involved in crime, right? They know who’s on their side and who’s not. But this guy… he’s a wild card. If he’s working alone, he’s not on anybody’s side.” 

Peter considered that. “I guess that’s true,” he said. “I just wish there was more to go on. I mean -- it’s so frustrating following all these leads and getting  _ nothing  _ from them. And this guy is not slowing down.” 

“You’ll figure it out,” Tony said encouragingly. “You never know when you’ll find a break in the case.” 

Peter raised an eyebrow to himself. “Never thought I’d be involved in something like this, really,” he said. 

“Well, you’re in it now,” Tony said wryly. 

“Thanks,” Peter replied sardonically. “I couldn’t tell.” 

“May told me that this investigation is why you got fired.”

Peter lifted an eyebrow. “Did she, now? What else does she tell you?”

Tony chuckled. “Everything, kid. You didn't know that?”

Peter blinked. “Why am I not surprised.” 

“You know,” Tony said casually, “I could always get you a job at Stark Industries, if you wanted it.”

Peter just shook his head, fondly exasperated. “Yeah, I know, Tony. But --” 

Tony waved a hand at him. “Oh, I know. You’ve got that  _ pride  _ thing.” 

“I just want to make it on my own, you know?” he said, reaching out to grab his drink. 

Tony looked amused. “You don’t have to explain it to me again. I get it. Honestly, I even respect it. But… you don’t _ always _ have to make things hard for yourself.” 

Peter took a sip of his water, looking over the rim of his glass at Tony. 

“Just -- well, just know it’s never too late to ask, okay? I want to help if you want it.” 

He gave Tony a sincere smile. “Thanks. I know.” 

“Good,” Tony nodded. Then he looked at Peter again out of the corner of his eye. “And… what about MJ?” 

Peter scowled. “Are you gonna pick at everything going on in my life, today?” 

Tony spread his hands out in front of him apologetically. “Hey, I don’t see you often enough any more. If I ask you now, you can’t hang up on me.” 

“Sounds like a challenge.”

Tony just raised his eyebrows at him. 

Frustrated, Peter pushed away from the table and went to put his dish in the sink. “What do you want me to say, Tony? We haven’t talked. She doesn’t want to talk.” He turned the sink on. 

“Really?” Tony asked, turning around in his chair to look at him. “She hasn’t said anything to you?” 

Peter was about to say that  _ no, she hadn’t, _ when he remembered that wasn’t exactly true. His hands paused under the spray of water. 

Tony noticed, of course. “I knew it,” he said. “Have you seen her?” 

Peter put his plate into the dishwasher with a little bit too much force. “No, I haven’t seen her. She just…” he closed the dishwasher and sighed as he leaned up back against the counter. “She texted me. On Thanksgiving. That’s it.”

Tony quieted, and looked at him sympathetically. Peter hated it. “Are you doing okay?” he asked.

“I’m  _ fine,”  _ Peter said flatly. “But I won’t be much longer if people keep asking me that.”

“Hey, don’t shoot me for caring.” 

“I just… need to get through this on my own, okay?”

Tony shrugged. “Okay,” he said simply. “But I’m here --” 

_ “Yes,”  _ Peter said sharply. Then he let a breath out of his nose, and added more softly, “I know.”

“Hey, only about a month until Christmas,” Tony said happily. “We’ll have all the time in the world to bicker then.” 

“I’ll brainstorm some things to argue about,” Peter said dryly. 

“Oh, no need,” Tony assured him. “I’ve already got a good list going.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, but he was fighting to keep a smile off his face now. “Okay, okay. Isn’t it time for you to leave?”

“Time answers to me,” Tony said. Then his phone dinged. 

“And you answer to Pepper,” Peter laughed.

Tony snorted. “Ain’t that the truth. Alright,” he sighed. “Come here and give me a hug so I can go.” 

Peter shook his head in amusement, but complied with the request. “Give one to Morgan for me, too,” he said.

Tony patted his back. “Always, Pete.” 

* * *

Peter swung leisurely back to May’s apartment, doing some people watching as he went. It was always funny watching big groups of tourists bumble their way past businesspeople in Midtown. 

It was getting properly cold, too. Lately he’d had to turn up the heater in his suit to keep from shivering. Trees that had been full of bold Fall colors a few weeks ago were now turning bare. Winter was definitely on its way. He wouldn’t be surprised if it snowed soon. 

Still, as much as winter was cold and grey, he couldn’t help but look forward to it. Already shops and streets were putting up Christmas decorations, coloring the city with pretty lights and sparkles. It was cliche, but could anybody blame him? Christmas was fun And in New York, it was an event. 

Peter swung past a small park, and spotted a few kids who were pointing up at him and grinning to each other. 

Smiling, he spun down and swung close enough to give one a high five, much to their delight. 

Then he was off again, the wind whistling in his ears and the bright winter sky above him. 

Not much later, he was back in Queens, headed up the elevator towards May’s place.

Peter closed the door behind him as he walked into the apartment. The TV was on low, playing some Food Network show with a smiling host. 

As he dropped his keys on the kitchen counter, he called out, “May? You home?” He couldn’t remember if this was one of the days that May was working this week, or if she had the night shift. When he heard no response, he figured she was. 

Peter scratched his head and fell down on the couch with a sigh. Somehow, he was tired. He hadn’t even really done anything much today. It had been good to see Tony again, though. It was always so much more fun to see him in person. It made him excited for Christmas, when they’d be going up to the cabin.

He was reaching for the remote to change the channel when he heard a strange noise come from the hallway.

Immediately he sat up straight. That sounded like -- like a moan.

Peter stood to his feet quietly when he heard the noise again, and crept towards the hallway. His spider sense wasn’t going off, but it still felt like something was wrong… his nerves were on alert.

He jumped around the corner, ready to fight whoever was there. 

But there was no enemy there. At least, not anymore.

Only his signature remained.

And when Peter saw her, it felt like his heart stilled in his chest. 

He couldn’t move fast enough. He ran forwards, then dropped down heavily to his knees. “What… May!” he exclaimed, eyes wide. 

He didn’t know what to do -- where to put his hands. There was so much blood. Too much blood. It had soaked the front of the scrubs that May was wearing. 

He couldn’t understand what he was seeing. This couldn’t be real. No. But --

She looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Blood had found its way up to fleck on her neck, her glasses. “Peter,” she breathed. 

“No, I -- I don’t know what to do,” Peter said desperately. His heart was racing in his chest. “Tell me what to do!” It was like every emergency situation he’d been in as Spider-Man fled from his mind. He couldn’t think of what to do. He couldn’t think. Carnage’s name hovered above them mockingly.

May just reached out weakly with one hand. 

Peter moved his own hands forward on instinct and pressed down on her stomach, where it looked like most of the blood was coming from. May gasped and shifted from the pain, but he kept pressing down. 

There was still so much blood, though. So much blood. It rose up between his fingers and ran across the back of his hands. 

A thought struck him. 9-1-1! He needed to call someone -- Peter moved one hand and pulled his phone out of his pocket. It slipped and clattered to the floor, but he quickly grabbed it and swiped to the emergency keypad. Blood smeared on the glass. 

“Peter,” May said again, her voice wavering. “Hurts…” 

“Shh, May,” Peter said helplessly. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” 

_ “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”  _

Peter spoke quickly. “My aunt’s hurt! She’s -- she’s been stabbed -- there’s a lot of blood. Please --” 

_ “I hear you. Please try to stay calm. Where are you now?”  _

Peter sputtered their address and apartment number. 

_ “Thank you. Emergency services are headed your way. Please stay on the line.”  _

May was shifting her head, blinking slowly. A pained noise came from her throat, and then her lips fought to form words. Her voice was strained and soft, too soft. There were tears running down her cheeks towards her ears. “Peter,” she said with an effort. “Peter, I… I love you so much.” 

“Don’t say that,” Peter said, tears coming to his own eyes. “May, don’t say that. You’re gonna be fine.” 

“Love you…” she said again, her breath shaky. Her hand came up to rest on top of his lightly. “I… sorry.”

“No,” Peter cried helplessly. 

May’s eyes met his. Those eyes that he’d known since he was old enough to remember. Eyes he’d seen be crinkled with happiness, heavy with fatigue, and bright with laughter. He could see pain there now, and sadness. And love. 

Her chest rattled again as she took a breath in. Then those eyes slipped closed, and the noise stopped alarmingly. 

“May?” he said quietly, looking down at the woman in his arms. 

She wasn’t moving. She wasn’t  _ breathing.  _

“May? May, wake up!” Peter said frantically, and he couldn’t help shaking her a little. She just needed to open her eyes! She was right there, she just had to  _ wake up!  _

There was no response. May’s head just lolled to the side, her features blank.

“No,” Peter breathed, shaking his head. This couldn’t be happening. This  _ wasn’t  _ happening. “No, no, nonono. Not you. Not this. No -- May? You’re okay, you’re okay.”

It felt like a nightmare. He pressed a shaking hand to her neck to feel for a pulse while straining his ears to hear it. 

Nothing. 

Feeling like a sinkhole was opening up under him, Peter pushed May fully onto her back and started giving her CPR. As he did, fresh blood bubbled up from between his fingers, and he felt ribs shifting under her skin. 

His mind was dull with denial, and horror. Half of him knew what was happening, and what had already happened. The other half refused to believe it. 

_ “May,”  _ he sobbed helplessly as he continued pressing down on her chest. Her face remained still. “God, no.” 

The next few minutes were the longest in his life. But finally, he heard sirens, and saw faint red and blue lights reflected through the window. The front door opened behind him, and a paramedic put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Step back, kid,” the man said firmly. “You’ve gone good, but if you don’t step back, we can’t help her.” 

Peter took a shaky breath, the EMT’s words cutting through the haze in his head. He let go of May and collapsed back. The first responders filled in the space he created. 

He felt faint. Little black dots raced in front of his eyes. He was about to rub a hand on his face when he saw the blood that covered them and froze.

“Can -- can I ride with you?” Peter said, somehow. He used the wall for balance as he pushed himself to his feet. “I want to stay with her.”

The same man who had told him to step back looked up at him, his expression sympathetic. They were loading May onto a gurney now. “Yeah, you can. Try and grab everything you need before we load up. If you’re not ready to go, we’ll leave without you.”

His mind blank, Peter moved quickly. First, he roughly washed the blood off of his hands, not letting himself think about it as he watched red run down the drain. Then he grabbed his wallet, and May’s.

He followed the EMT’s out of the building, ignoring curious neighbors as he went. As they loaded into the ambulance, Peter saw police cars lined up on the curb. A few police officers were walking into the apartment building. 

Peter just kept his eyes on May, feeling both removed from himself and a terrible agony in his chest. 

Then the ambulance doors slammed shut, and they sped off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go...
> 
> Dialogue from the opening of this chapter is inspired by the comics! (Spectacular Spider-Man 215: https://readcomiconline.to/Comic/The-Spectacular-Spider-Man-1976/Issue-215?id=19084)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've officially passed page 100 on my google docs for this story. The most I've written for any fic!

Peter’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the edges of the white toilet bowl in front of his face. His nose streamed, and vomit lined the corners of his mouth. 

He heaved once more, and then collapsed backward onto the cold tile floor, his back leaning against the side of the stall. The bathroom was quiet around him. He just sat there for a moment, his head spinning a little, before he fumbled for the toilet paper to wipe his face.

All the while, May’s face swam before his eyes. He couldn’t think about anything else. 

When they’d arrived at the hospital, it was already too late. May was swept off by an ER doctor in blue scrubs the same color as May’s, but it hadn’t been an hour before he came back, his face carefully sympathetic. He’d laid a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and told him that he was sorry, but nothing else could be done. She’d already lost too much blood. 

Peter wondered if anything would have happened differently if they’d arrived at the hospital May worked at -- if they would have tried harder because they knew her. But there was no way knowing. 

May was gone. 

He realized he’d known it, even before the doctor told him. He’d known ever since May had breathed those last words to him that she wasn’t going to open her eyes again.

Peter shivered, and forced himself to focus on the wall in front of him. He was having a hard time doing that. Everything felt unreal, like he had stepped into a dream. Even the way his body moved seemed unnatural. 

He reached up with one hand and pinched himself, hard. The pain centered him for a moment, and he took a shaky breath before pushing himself to his feet. He held out a hand to stabilize himself, and spotted some blood still dried there. 

The sight almost made him throw up again, but instead he gritted his teeth and rushed out to the sink. He turned on the spray of water as hot and hard as it would go, and roughly scrubbed it away. 

When he looked up at his face in the mirror, he had to turn aside quickly. There was nothing he recognized in the haunted gaze that stared back at him. 

Peter steadied himself and walked slowly back out to the waiting room, where he took a seat. 

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he saw a woman walking up to him out of the corner of his eye. Peter focused on her. She wore a pantsuit, had her hair up in a tight bun, and held a clipboard under her arm. Despite everything, Peter’s stomach swooped in anticipation. Surely they were about to say that there’d been some mistake. That there’d been a miracle, and May was alive. He pushed himself up out of his chair. 

“You’re the family of May Parker?” the woman asked, her voice sympathetic. 

Peter nodded wordlessly. 

She gave him a consoling smile. “Condolences for your loss.”

his chest sunk again at her words. “Thank you,” he managed. 

“My name’s Laney,” the woman continued. “I’m your bereavement liaison.” She shifted the clipboard out from under her arm. “I know this must be a hard time for you, but I’m here to walk you through everything, so just let me know if you have any questions, okay? There’s some paperwork here that you’ll need to fill out, like a death certificate, and a death report.” 

Peter accepted those papers, as well as a few others, his limbs moving robotically. It felt like he was dreaming. Like he was in a nightmare and that any second he’d wake up.

Laney kept talking, her voice gentle. “Because of… the manner of death, the police will need to be involved. I think they’ll be sending someone soon to talk to you, and they’ll have to ask some questions about what happened.” 

“Can I --” Peter broke in suddenly. “Can I see her?” 

Laney paused. “Um… I was about to mention this. It’s…” she looked uncomfortable. “Because the police are involved, we have to wait for them to okay it for you to see the body.” 

_ The body.  _ Peter felt his breath catch. 

“As part of any investigation they do, they’ll need to do an autopsy and examination, and it’s unlikely you’ll be able to see her before that happens. I’m so sorry.” 

He held tight onto the papers in his hand, feeling them crumple a little in his fingers. “When… um, when do I talk with someone from the police? I -- there were officers at the apartment --” 

“You’ll talk to someone soon,” Laney replied. “Within the hour, probably. In the meantime, it would be helpful if you could fill out those forms. You can give them to me whenever you’re done with them. There’s a few other things you’ll need to keep in mind as we move forward… especially funeral arrangements. I can give you some information on that if you need it, but there’s also that yellow brochure there.” She pointed down at one of the papers in his hand. 

Peter blinked down at it, and swallowed roughly. “Right,” he said. 

“Okay,” Laney said slowly. “Um, is there anyone else you think should be notified? If you give me names and numbers, I’d be happy to help you with that.” 

“No,” he said. “I… I mean, I can do it, thanks.” 

Laney nodded, her expression compassionate, if a bit patronizing. “I’ll be in that office right over there, so just ask for me if you need anything,” she told him. “Again, I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

He probably should have replied, but Peter couldn’t bring himself to speak again, so instead Laney just smiled awkwardly and walked off. 

Fortunately he was still standing near his chair, because as his knees gave out beneath him he was able to fall back into it. The papers in his hand were captured in his tunnel vision. Everything else around him seemed to disappear -- the other people waiting, the televisions playing the news, the sounds of walking and of machines.

_ Wake up,  _ he begged to himself.  _ Just wake up.  _

Even the sight of the papers faded, and he saw in his mind’s eye the apartment -- May, on the ground… blood, everywhere --

Peter shook his head roughly and forced himself to focus. If he could just focus, and do what he needed to… he needed to be strong now. For May. 

He needed to call Tony. 

For a minute, Peter didn’t move to do it. It felt like there was a wall between them. Tony was still living in the past. He was still living in a time when none of this was happening, and it felt cruel to break that bubble. 

Eventually, though, Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket. As the number rang, his heart was in his throat. As usual, Tony picked up after only a few rings. 

_ “Hey, Pete,”  _ Tony said casually. There were noises in the background, like he was in the car with the radio on. He was probably driving back upstate.  _ “What’s up?”  _

Peter felt anxiety course through him and had to fight back the urge to throw up again. Opening his mouth to speak felt like the hardest thing in the world. 

When Peter didn’t respond, Tony spoke again.  _ “Peter? You there?”  _

“Yeah,” Peter replied suddenly, afraid that Tony would hang up. “I’m here.” 

There was a pause, and Tony sounded a little concerned now. The music in the background was turned down.  _ “Everything okay? You sound a little off.” _

Peter didn’t know how to say what he needed to say. “I… I need you to come back to the city,” he said. “It’s… something’s happened.” 

_ “What?”  _ Tony was definitely worried now, and his voice was louder. He must have brought the phone to his ear.  _ “What happened? Are you okay?”  _

Peter just sat there for a moment with a hand over his eyes.

_ “Peter? Talk to me, kid, come on.”  _

“It’s not me,” he said finally. His mouth felt numb. “It’s May. She’s… she’s dead.” 

There was a long, shocked silence on the other end.  _ “What?”  _ Tony said. His voice sounded faint, and Peter wasn’t sure whether it was because Tony had answered that way or because his ears were buzzing.  _ “Oh, God… Peter? Where are you? Tell me exactly where you are.”  _ But before Peter could respond,  _ “No, nevermind. I have your location. Just… I’ll be there soon, okay? As soon as I can.”  _

Peter nodded. “Okay,” he breathed. 

* * *

Time passed slowly, and yet all at once. At some point, Peter’s head fell into his hand, propped up by the armrest. A buzzing grew in his ears. He watched the black behind his eyelids, and struggled to keep his thoughts from what had happened only a few hours ago. 

“Peter?” A voice said above him, cutting through the haze. “Peter.” 

His head snapped up, and he saw Tony standing in front of him, his wide eyes filled with a sad kind of horror. 

When he met Tony’s eyes, it was like the pain hit him for the first time again. He couldn’t seem to make words, and when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. 

Tony seemed to understand, though, and his brow drew even closer together before he reached out his arms and pulled Peter close into a hug. 

Peter sunk into the hug, not quite crying, but shaking in Tony’s arms. He fought against the emotion, but it seemed to be crawling its way out of him, pushing out through his chest. It couldn’t be controlled. 

Tony was speaking softly -- little reassurances that didn’t mean much but still managed to calm him a little.

“I’m sorry,” he sputtered, pushing back from Tony. “I -- I’m sorry.” 

Tony shook his head, his expression pained. “No, don’t apologize. Peter, you have nothing to apologize for.” 

Peter stepped further back and wiped his sleeve across his eyes, pulling in a deep and shaky breath. 

When he had calmed down a bit, he looked around the hallway. There were people milling about around them, some of them looking sad, but most just looking bored. Nurses circulated with papers in hand, chatting with various people around them. 

But none of them were looking his way. None of them cared that the most important person in his life had just been violently removed from the world. It was like he and Tony were standing in a little bubble of grief. 

And really -- he couldn’t help the thought -- it was just him that really cared. Sure, Tony liked May. But he wasn’t the one whose whole life had changed in the last few hours. 

When Peter looked back, Tony looked concerned. “Peter?” he said softly, reaching out a hand to grab Peter’s arm. 

Peter shook his head. This whole moment felt very surreal. He looked down at the papers that were still in his hand. “I… I’m supposed to fill these out,” he said.

Tony shook his head firmly. “Don’t worry about that, Peter. Pepper’s here too, she’s just parking the car. She’ll know what to do, okay?” 

He nodded. 

“So… can you tell me what happened?” Tony said gently as he sat Peter down again and then took the seat next to him.

“Oh,” Peter said dumbly. Tony didn’t know. He probably should have mentioned this over the phone, but it only just occurred to him that Tony  _ wouldn’t  _ know. Wouldn’t know that May had been… May had -- 

“Peter?” Tony said. “I know this is hard, but… please, I need to know what happened.” 

Peter opened his mouth. He didn’t know where to start. His thoughts kept tripping at the memory of seeing May on the floor of the apartment -- the smell of the blood -- how had he not noticed the smell -- “I -- May, she --”

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted. Peter looked up to see a man in police uniform. He looked familiar for some reason. “Family of May Parker?” 

“Yes. What do you want?” Tony said shortly, sounding half rude and half confused. 

The police officer paused and frowned. “You’re Tony Stark.” 

“And?” Tony was obviously frustrated. 

“I -- um, sorry,” the officer swallowed and seemed to shake it off. “I’m Officer Campos. But you can call me Mateo, if you like. I’m here to update you on what’s going on. If you want, maybe we can go sit somewhere more private?” 

Peter realized distantly that he’d seen Officer Campos before -- Spider-Man had even talked with him at a few Carnage crime scenes. He saw Tony looking at him questioningly out of the corner of his eye, and he was scared to look back. Instead, he nodded at Mateo. “Yeah, okay,” he said. 

“Okay. Follow me, then. There’s a room we can use down the hall.” 

Peter pushed himself to his feet and saw Tony following after him. 

“Peter?” Tony almost sounded even more scared now. “I’m gonna need you to explain what’s going on.” 

“I’ll tell you everything in a minute, sir,” Mateo said to Tony over his shoulder. 

Peter stared resolutely at the ground in front of his feet as they walked around the corner and into another, much smaller room. It looked like a break room of some sort -- there was a vending machine in the corner, and two small round tables. 

Mateo closed the door behind them and gestured for them to take a seat at one of the tables. 

Once they were all seated, Mateo looked at the two of them and said, “I’m sorry for your loss. I know that this is a very difficult situation, but I hope I can help take some weight off of what shouldn’t be difficult here.” 

“What happened?” Tony said. 

Mateo looked over at Peter and then back at Tony. “I’m sorry to tell you that May Parker has died. She was killed in her home.” 

Tony’s face had gone white. “Killed? You mean --” he glanced at Peter, and for the first time that Peter had known him he looked lost for words. “Who…? When -- I -- You were there?” he asked Peter. “Are you hurt?” 

Peter shook his head. “I found her,” he said softly. The color of May’s blood as it seeped from her body flashed in front of his mind unbidden. 

Tony looked horrified.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Mateo said respectfully. “And we’re going to work as hard as we can to figure out who it was that killed her. Peter, you’ll need to sit down and answer some questions about what happened. That needs to happen as soon as possible. If you can, after we’ve finished here you can ride with me to the station.” 

“This was Carnage,” Peter blurted. “I know it was.” 

“Oh, Jesus,” Tony covered his face with his hands. 

Peter shook his head. “The wall… his name was on the wall.”

Mateo just nodded. “You can mention any details that you think are relevant to the officer who questions you. Just know that we’ll have to explore all avenues of how this might have occurred.” 

“Holy  _ shit, _ ” Tony muttered. It looked like he was still processing what was going on. Peter couldn’t blame him. He was feeling the same. 

Mateo continued, “You should also know that you won’t be able to get back into your apartment. Because of what happened there, we have officers there now who’ve secured the scene and they’ll be doing a thorough sweep so that we can gather what we need for an investigation.” 

“How long will that take?” Tony asked, looking up from his hands. 

Mateo looked apologetic. “It’s going to be at least a couple days, unfortunately. Probably more like a week. If you need to, we can help you find accommodations in the meantime, but --”

“Don’t worry about that,” Tony said firmly to Peter. “We can help you there.” 

Peter felt like a thousand things were flying at him at once, and he was being crushed beneath them. “Can I go in there to get my clothes?” he asked. 

“Sorry, but… no,” Mateo said. “While the forensics investigation is happening you won’t be able to enter at all, since the scene has to be preserved.” 

Tony let out a long sigh. “Right,” he said roughly. 

“One more thing,” said Mateo. “Uh, it’s highly likely that you’ll have people from the media trying to talk to you. You can choose to interact with them how you wish, really, but there will be some things that we ask you don’t share.”

There was a beat of quiet where Tony looked over at Peter and Peter stared hard at the table in front of him. Then Mateo cleared his throat, and pushed up from the table. “Right, well. I’ll give you a moment. I’ll just be outside, so let me know when you’re ready to go.” 

“Can I see her?” Peter asked, suddenly desperate. “Before we go?” 

“Um…” Mateo paused and considered that. “I’ll call and find out, and I’ll let you know.” 

Peter nodded, and Mateo turned and left the room. The door clicked closed behind him. 

Tony turned to Peter again, his face still pale and hollow. Peter couldn’t avoid his gaze any longer, and turned his face to meet his. 

“Peter,” Tony said quietly. 

Peter didn’t know what to say. His chest felt tight. He looked away again. 

“Are you…” Tony swallowed. “Are you sure it was Carnage?”

“Yes,” Peter said dully. He couldn’t get the scene out of his head. 

The reality of that seemed to set in for Tony. He said with quiet intensity, “Is this because… Does he know who you are? Are you in danger?”

Peter shook his head. “I don’t know,” he replied, thinking distantly that it didn’t matter even if he was. “I don’t think so.” 

“Okay,” Tony said, sounding like he was trying to gain control over the situation. “Okay.” He pulled out his phone and was typing something on it. 

Peter turned his gaze back to the table. He felt like he had turned over the controls on his life and his body to someone else. Every part of him wanted to go to May, to find her and see her alive and well again and chase out the vision of her body lying bloody and broken on the floor of the apartment. 

Tony’s voice brought him back to the present. “Peter, I’m so sorry.” 

There was a hand on his shoulder, and Peter turned to see that Tony had shifted closer to him. His expression was terribly sad. 

Peter just pressed his lips together and tucked his face into Tony’s chest. The hand shifted to his back, and Tony’s other hand moved to the back of his head. 

He closed his eyes and pressed himself closer, wishing that he never had to move again. 

Then Tony spoke up again hesitantly. “Peter… what happened, exactly?”

Peter spoke into Tony’s chest, his voice dull and monotone. “I… I got to the apartment, and she was on the ground.” Something occurred to him then. “I’d gone out as Spider-Man -- after we had lunch. If I’d just gone straight home…” 

Tony squeezed him tighter. “This isn’t your fault.” 

Peter just let out a shaky breath, and let Tony hold him. He didn’t say what he was thinking -- that it  _ was  _ his fault. Because if he had gotten there just a few minutes earlier, May could still be alive.

* * *

A few minutes later, Peter managed to get himself together enough to stand and walk out of the room. Tony followed hesitantly behind him, as if scared he would spook him. 

Mateo was leaning against the wall just outside the door. He pushed himself forward onto his feet when he saw Peter. “I spoke with the forensics team,” he said. “You’ll be able to see her for a few minutes. But they, uh, haven’t started the autopsy,” he added gently, “So you won’t be able to touch her.” 

Peter just nodded mutely, so Tony spoke for him: “Thank you.” 

“No problem,” Mateo replied. “Just… follow me this way.” 

As the three of them walked down the hall towards the elevator, Peter’s mind was swirling. He couldn’t believe that any of this was real. It felt like a heavy weight was sitting on his chest, and it was difficult to draw breath. Slowly, sounds around him faded away, and black dots formed in his vision. 

Then Peter felt hands grip his arms, and Tony’s face appeared in his line of sight. 

“Peter?” Tony said. He looked pale, and his eyes were wide. “Hey, just -- just breathe.” 

Easier said than done, but after a moment Peter was able to draw a shaky breath. 

“That’s it,” Tony encouraged. “Keep it going, now. We can just take a pause here for a second.”

Another few deeper breaths later and Peter was a little steadier, though he didn’t feel any better. 

Tony’s eyes were still locked on his face. “You good, Pete?” 

“I’m okay,” Peter managed. “Sorry.”

Tony shifted to stand next to him and put a hand on Peter’s back. “No worries. Just keep breathing, okay? I’m right here.”

Peter nodded gratefully. 

Mateo was waiting down the hall with his back turned respectfully. When Peter and Tony caught up with him, Mateo nodded at Tony.

They entered the elevator, and made their way down a few floors. The hall that was revealed when the doors opened was bright, but unnaturally so; there were no windows on the walls. 

Mateo stopped in front of a door where there was a security guard seated in a chair. The guard nodded at the officer, and Mateo opened the door. “She’s just in here,” he told Peter. “Remember, unfortunately, you can’t touch her.” 

Mateo stepped inside, but Peter froze behind him. The door slid closed. 

Peter felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Tony. “Do you want me to come in?” 

Peter shook his head and moved forwards. 

For a moment, he stood still in front of the door. He knew that on the other side, he would find May. And he was terrified. 

Because it wouldn’t really be  _ her.  _ Everything that made May  _ May  _ was gone -- had been gone since he saw her on the ground in the apartment. What was in this room was nothing more than a body. And he wasn’t sure whether he could face that. 

Slowly, he raised his hand and turned the doorknob. He stepped forward, and the door swung open with him. And as soon as he moved past it, he saw her. 

May was laid out under pale blue sheets, her face slack and pale. Peter knew distantly that if he pulled back the sheet he would see the wounds on her chest -- the ones that had sent blood running between his fingers. But instead, he concentrated on her face. 

The pure  _ wrongness  _ of it buzzed through him, setting his teeth on edge. He longed to reach out and grab her hand. But as Mateo had said, he couldn’t touch her. 

Instead, he took a seat on the stool next to her. Unsure what to do with his hands, he grasped them together in his lap. 

The scene was unsettlingly familiar. Peter could remember being in a similar room years ago, looking down at Ben’s body.

Now he looked down at May’s and knew, as he did then, that nothing would ever be the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I'll share the quote that inspired the title of this work now. It's from Lemony Snicket -- I'm sure a few of you recognize it. 
> 
> “It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.”
> 
> This is where our story takes a darker turn. Thanks to everyone who has been reading this story, and to those who've commented! I so love hearing your responses and feedback. Have a good weekend!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slower updates lately -- I've run out of prewritten chapters and school's been getting busy.   
> Let me know what you think of this chapter - I hope it's sad more than it is melodramatic.

Peter stepped out from the interrogation room and into the hallway of the Forest Hills police station. It was quiet -- only a few officers sat at their desks. As he walked forwards, Tony spotted him and stood quickly. 

“You’re done? Are you okay?” Tony asked him once he was close enough. “What did they ask you?” 

Peter shook his head and gazed down at the floor. “Just… I told them what I saw.” It had been difficult, but he’d told the officer who’d questioned him everything that had happened after he’d gotten back to the apartment. “And… they took my fingerprints.” 

“Right,” Tony said. He put a hand up on Peter’s back and looked around the station. “Are we -- can we leave, then?” 

“I don’t know,” Peter said dully. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw a man walk up to them, one who had greying hair and a somber expression. 

“Detective Stacy,” Peter said without thinking. At Stacy’s expression, he backtracked and tried to explain, “I -- I’ve read about you in the paper.”

Stacy looked him up and down. “Right,” he said. Then his expression softened a little. “I was just coming to introduce myself, so I’ll say it anyway -- I’m Geoge Stacy. The detective for the Carnage killings.” He reached out and shook Tony’s hand, and then looked over at Peter. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

Peter, who’d been shaken a little by Stacy’s appearance, felt the weight settle in his chest. He avoided Stacy’s eye. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

Tony’s hand tightened onto Peter’s shoulder, and he looked Stacy levelly in the eye. “You gonna find this guy, detective?”

“We’re trying our hardest,” Stacy replied. “I’m sorry May Parker was caught in it.” 

“So am I,” Tony said. 

Stacy just looked somberly at Peter.

“Are we good to go, then?” Tony asked. “Do you need anything else from us?”

“No, no -- you can go,” the detective said. “We’ll get in contact if we need to ask any more questions.” 

Tony nodded sharply. “Good. Uh -- thank you.”

“Thanks for working with us.” Then Stacy bowed his head. With one last glance at Peter, he walked off down the hallway.

Tony waited until Stacy had opened the door to his office before he said quietly, “That’s who you’ve been working with?” 

Peter nodded.

The grip on his shoulder grew almost painful as Tony started to steer him towards the door. “Let’s go, then,” he said. “Pepper found a hotel for us. And uh… maybe we could get you something to eat.” 

The thought of eating made Peter’s stomach turn, but he didn’t say anything. 

They were almost out the door when a voice made them pause. 

“Peter! Mr. Stark!” 

Peter turned to see Mateo coming towards them.

“What is it?” Tony asked, sounding slightly frustrated. 

“One moment,” Mateo said. He stopped in front of them. “I know you’re going to have questions moving forward, so just know I’ll be your contact within the investigation. Feel free to call me any time.” Mateo pulled a couple of business cards out of his pocket and pushed them towards Tony and Peter. 

Peter reached out and accepted it. 

“Thank you,” Tony said. 

Mateo nodded, and they turned to leave. 

It had been hours since Peter and Tony had gotten to the station, and the sky outside was now losing the last of its light. 

Tony stepped away to call Pepper. Peter paused on the curb and took a deep breath, the cold air stinging his lungs, then fogging on the exhale. A street lamp flickered on next to him.

The street was oddly quiet, with only a few people wandering down the block. 

Peter felt a buzzing in his pocket. He pulled out his phone, slightly confused. Who would be calling him? 

The name made him freeze before he unconsciously accepted the call. 

_ “Peter?”  _ the voice said immediately, sounding pained. A voice he hadn’t heard in weeks.  _ “Peter, are you there?” _

“MJ,” Peter said, stunned.

_ “Oh, my god. Peter.”  _ MJ’s voice was shaky. 

There was an extended pause. Peter didn’t bother trying to break it. 

_ “Peter…”  _ MJ said finally.  _ “I -- I heard what happened. I heard about May.”  _

Of course she had. Peter felt empty. “Right,” he said stiffly. 

_ “I’m… I’m so sorry.”  _ Her voice was thick, like she was crying.  _ “May… it isn’t fair. It’s not fair.” _

Peter stood quietly, listening to her hitching breaths. 

_ “This doesn’t feel real,”  _ MJ said.  _ “I can’t imagine…”  _ Then she paused before adding intensely,  _ “Are -- are you safe? Did he find out who you are? Is he coming after you?” _

“I don’t know,” Peter said honestly. “But… I don’t think so.” He bit the inside of his mouth. 

_ “God… I don’t know if that makes it better, or worse.”  _ There was another pause, and her breathing stuttered.  _ “I’m so, so sorry, Peter,”  _ she said again. 

Peter clenched his jaw and fought back against the tightness clenching his throat. “I -- I need to go,” he managed. 

_ “Right,”  _ MJ said.  _ “Right.”  _ She let out a sigh.  _ “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”  _

“Bye, MJ,” he said tightly. He pulled the phone down, and hung up. His breaths came sharply out his nose.

After a moment, Peter felt eyes on him, and he turned to see Tony watching him carefully. 

“That was MJ?” Tony said. 

Peter nodded. 

“How did she know?” 

“It’s her job,” he said simply. 

“Are you…” Tony stopped. “Nevermind.”

Thankfully, Pepper chose that pull up to the curb. 

Peter opened the car door and slid into the backseat, while Tony took the front. 

Pepper glanced back at Peter before asking Tony, “How’d it go?” 

“Normally, I guess,” Tony replied. “No questions about Spider-Man. Right, Peter?” 

Peter blinked back against a sudden sting of tears, and turned away to look out the window. “Right,” he said hoarsely. 

“Peter?” Pepper said. Her tone of voice made him turn back to look at her. “We’re -- uh, we’re gonna stay here in a hotel for a little while,” she said gently. “I think you should stay with us.” 

Peter bit the inside of his cheek again. “Well, I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he said.

Pepper opened her mouth, and then closed it again. 

“We’re here for you,” Tony said, turning around in his seat to look at Peter. “You know that, right?”

Peter held Tony’s gaze for a moment. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I know.” 

Tony nodded. 

The car pulled away from the curb. They drove in silence, the lights blurring past. Peter rested his head on the window, and the cold glass fogged up where his skin touched.

The darkness of the backseat slowly crept through him, pushing on the walls that he’d managed to keep up all day. There was something about sitting back there in the dark, watching the lights of the city out the window… if he didn’t look, it could have been May and Ben in the front seats, driving him home after a dinner out. 

He wiped the tears from his eye before they could fall. 

When they stopped again, Peter didn’t want to move. Even as Tony and Pepper climbed out of the car, he stayed put. 

After a moment Peter heard a click, and his door opened slowly. Tony stood there, looking down at him. Beyond him was the entrance to a hotel. 

“Peter?” Tony said hesitantly. “You wanna come inside?” 

He just clenched his jaw. 

“Peter?”

“This is my fault,” Peter said suddenly. As he looked down at his lap, he realized that his hands were shaking. He clasped them together in an attempt to steady them.

When he looked up again, Peter saw that Tony’s face was colored with pain and sorrow. “No,” Tony said, shaking his head. “Peter, no. You can’t start this. This was  _ not  _ your fault.” 

“But it  _ is _ ,” Peter said, suddenly desperate. “If I had just been home, or -- if I had worked harder to find this guy --”

“No.  _ Please,  _ Peter,” Tony said intensely, kneeling down and putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Don’t put this on yourself. I won’t let you. Okay?” 

Peter let out a stuttering breath, and then nodded. 

Tony held out a hand to help him up, and he grabbed it. 

* * *

The hotel was fancy, of course, and big. Their room was more like an apartment, with a kitchen and living area and several bedrooms. Peter escaped to his as soon as Tony and Pepper had let him. They’d realized eventually that he wasn’t going to eat anything tonight. 

He changed into his pyjamas, turned the lights off, and climbed into the large bed.

As he lay there, he realized there was someone he needed to call. 

He moved automatically, picking up his phone to call the number. It was picked up after a few rings. 

“Ned, it’s me,” he spoke into the darkness. 

_ “Yeah, I know, Peter,”  _ Ned said, chuckling slightly.  _ “I have caller ID. What’re you calling me so early for, anyway? You’re lucky I’m awake.”  _

Ned’s voice was so  _ normal.  _ More than anything, it was familiar. He’d known Ned almost as long as he could remember. 

_ “Peter?”  _ Ned said again.  _ “Hello? You still there?”  _

And then, it was like a dam breaking. Suddenly Peter was crying like he hadn’t in years, his shoulders shaking, snot and tears running down his face. 

_ “What --”  _ Ned sounded alarmed.  _ “What’s going on? Are you okay?” _

Peter’s breaths came in gasps. It felt like he couldn’t get enough air.  _ “No,” _ he moaned. “May’s -- May’s dead. She was -- Carnage --”

_ “What. No. May --”  _ Ned cut off. 

There was a long moment of silence. Peter wasn’t sure how long. He couldn’t focus on anything more than the pain ripping through his chest; the darkness of the room reaching into him. He’d curled up on his side, his head nearly touching his knees. But the longer the silence went on, the more uncontrolled his breathing got. He couldn’t get enough air. He couldn’t breathe. He -- 

The silence broke.  _ “Oh, God.” _

Peter pressed a hand to his mouth to cover his sob. 

_ “No. I… Oh, my God.” _

“I don’t know what to do,” Peter spilled. “I don’t know what to do.”

_ “May’s gone? Shit… Peter… I’m so sorry.” _

Peter couldn’t say much more after that, and Ned didn’t say much either. Still, it was comforting to feel the presence of his friend, and the two of them stayed on the line with each other long past the time Peter was sure Ned had to be at work. 

* * *

The next few days were some of the longest that Peter could remember. He spent almost all of his time following the news, reading up late into the night about what was happening with the investigation. It became obvious almost immediately that Carnage had no idea who Peter was; May’s death was just a coincidental mark in the killer’s list of victims. Like MJ had said, the confirmation of that created conflicting feelings. On one hand, it was good to know that he didn’t have to worry overly about the other people in his life. But at the same time, it made May’s life seem smaller. Like she could have been anyone. 

He scrolled through articles unceasingly -- at least until Tony took his phone. After that he spent most of his time sitting on the couch in the hotel suite watching trash TV and trying not to think. Different people tried calling him for an interview, but Tony fended them all off.

Happy showed up quickly from the Avengers compound, offering to help with anything they needed. It was nice to see the man again after so long. 

“Wish it didn’t have to be like this, though,” Happy had said to him sadly. “Your aunt was a great woman.”

Tony spent all his time watching Peter with an open concern that grew steadily more annoying with each day. It wasn’t that Peter didn’t appreciate him being there, it was just that the concern felt terribly like pity.

Meanwhile, Pepper helped plan a funeral for May. She took on the task as gracefully as she did anything, and Peter was incredibly grateful. 

Four days after May’s death, Peter was seated on the couch again, Tony and Happy across from him, when Pepper walked into the room. The click of her heels on the floors echoed around the room. 

“I just talked to that officer -- Mateo,” Pepper said as she walked up to them. “He told me that they’re done with the apartment. We can get back into it today.” 

“Oh, good,” Tony said, looking up at her. 

“Yeah, that’s something, at least,” Happy agreed. 

Peter felt relief at hearing this, but it only lasted a moment. After all, it wasn’t like he was going to walk into that apartment and find May again. He saw it again -- May on the ground, Carnage’s name scrawled on the wall --

A horrible thought occurred to him. “What if…” he looked over at Tony, who was staring back with that concern in his eyes. “I mean, there was so much blood…” 

Pepper looked suddenly pale. “We’ll -- we’ll take care of that, first,” she said unsteadily. 

Tony took a shaky breath through his nose and pushed himself to his feet. “Peter,” he said. “Why don’t we -- I mean, let’s go for a walk. You haven’t been outside yet today.” 

Peter couldn’t help but feel a flare of annoyance at the words, even though he knew Tony meant well. He could take care of himself; he didn’t need anyone telling him what he should be doing. He pushed down on the feeling, though, and just said stiffly, “Yeah, okay.” 

The hotel was just off Central Park, so it was there that they went to walk after donning coats and hats. 

They went in silence for a while, just looking at the nearly bare boughs of the trees, until Tony said, “You know… we’ll stay in town as long as you need us to, after the funeral.” 

Peter frowned, and shook his head. They’d already talked about this. “No. Morgan needs you at home. I’ll be fine.” 

“Morgan could stay here, too,” Tony countered. “She’s coming up with Rhodey tomorrow.” 

“I know that,” Peter said, his voice snapping unintentionally. He ground his teeth and tried to relax. “I know.” 

“Or you could come upstate with us. Like Pepper said, we’d love to have you. Just come and relax. Get settled.” 

“No,” Peter said.

Tony sighed tiredly. “Peter --” 

“No, Tony,” Peter repeated firmly.

“Why not? You don’t even have a job right now. You don’t have an excuse not to come.” 

Peter looked over at Tony. “You know I have to stay. I have to find Carnage.” 

“But… do you, though? It doesn’t have to be you, kid. That Stacy guy -- he seems smart. Let him find Carnage.” 

“He can’t do it alone,” Peter replied. “And… I have to help.  _ I  _ do.” 

Tony pressed his lips together, looking resigned. “Yeah. I know.” Then he made a new offer. “Why don’t  _ I _ just stay here, then? Pepper can go home with Morgan, and I’ll stay here with you. Everybody wins.” 

Peter just raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t need to do that.” 

“What if I want to?” Tony countered. 

“You don’t need to,” Peter said again, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I can take care of myself. I mean… it’s not like I don’t know how this goes.” 

Tony scoffed, and Peter turned to see the man looking at him in disbelief. “Just because you  _ can _ take care of yourself doesn’t mean you need to.” 

Peter shrugged. “Life has to get back to normal at some point. It might as well happen as soon as possible.” 

Tony gave him a long look, his expression turning sad again. Eventually, he said, “You know… I know how this goes, too. I know it’s hard.” 

Peter looked across an empty field instead of looking at Tony.

“When my mother died…” Tony gave a short sigh. “I didn’t just lose her. It was like -- like she took part of me with her. Something that I’ll never get back.” 

Peter paused by a nearly empty fountain, and Tony stopped next to him. A few people passed them on the path, having their own conversation.

As Peter looked down into the dirty water that sat at the bottom of the fountain, he sucked in a shaky breath. “I just…” he shook his head. Tony just waited patiently for him to speak. “I don’t know why, but I thought… I thought with May it wouldn’t be like this,” he revealed. 

He felt Tony watching him. “Like what? You mean…” 

“Yeah,” Peter said quietly.

Tony stood closer, brushing shoulders with Peter. “Well… I promise nothing like that will happen to me.”

“You can’t promise that,” Peter said flatly. Then after a moment, he added, “But… thanks, I guess.” 

Tony gave Peter a pat on the back and nudged him to keep moving down the path. “My pleasure, Pete.” 

* * *

The funeral was tough. 

The service was thoughtful, and the flower arrangements (picked out by Pepper) were beautiful, but Peter was  _ tired.  _ He was weary to his bones, and yet he still had to do his speech right -- to somehow convey just how much May meant to him. It had been hard for him to write; he had never been the best with words. Pepper had helped him put it together, though, and he thought it was reasonable enough. 

Peter’s hands were shaking as he stepped up to the podium, and as he read from the piece of paper in front of him he avoided the eyes of everyone in the crowd. 

He’d done this before. But that didn’t make it any easier.

After he sat down again, Tony reached over and squeezed his shoulder. 

“Good job, Peter,” he whispered. “I’m proud of you.”

He appreciated the words, but the thought flashed through his head that he would never hear those words from May again. He would never hear  _ any  _ words from her again. 

Peter just stared down at his lap, his shoulders bowed. And as the officiant began to speak again, this time reading out a selected poem from an author May had liked, it seemed to be coming from very far away:

> “The tide rises, the tide falls,
> 
> The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
> 
> Along the sea-sands damp and brown
> 
> The traveller hastens toward the town,
> 
> And the tide rises, the tide falls.
> 
> “Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
> 
> But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls;
> 
> The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
> 
> Efface the footprints in the sands,
> 
> And the tide rises, the tide falls.
> 
> “The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
> 
> Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
> 
> The day returns, but nevermore
> 
> Returns the traveller to the shore,
> 
> And the tide rises, the tide falls.”

There was a procession to the burial spot -- a plot of earth that had been reserved next to a headstone that read:  _ Ben Parker; Beloved Husband and Uncle.  _

A reception followed the service, and it was hard for him not to just walk out. Peter appreciated hearing the stories and good words about May from her friends and co-workers, but at that point all he wanted to do was to curl up in his bed and sleep for about twenty years. 

Instead, Peter awkwardly mingled with the people there, giving hugs and receiving condolences. He held a plastic cup of water that, once empty, quickly became a crumpled mass that stayed clenched in his fist. 

He kept getting flashbacks to Ben’s funeral, and had to stop himself from looking around for May’s reassuring figure. He and May had supported each other after Ben’s death. Now, Peter would have to support himself. 

Everyone asked how he was doing, and his answer was always the same: “I’m fine.” He wasn’t sure if it was true, but he knew enough that these people didn’t want him to actually say how he was feeling. They didn’t want to hear about how he couldn’t sleep, or that he saw May’s mangled body every time he closed his eyes. 

No, they wanted a simple answer. And Peter could give that to them.

It was helpful to have Tony there. The man didn’t stray far, instead choosing to stay close, every now and again giving him an encouraging glance or a supportive hand. Plus, he managed to do most of the talking, for which Peter was extremely grateful.

Morgan was still young, but unlike after the losses they faced after Thanos, she was old enough to understand what it meant for someone to die. Pepper had explained the situation to her, he was told, and she had taken it hard, even without knowing the painful details. After all, Morgan had become close with May over the years. Now, she seemed unsure of how to act at a funeral, however, and so while she was calm and quiet and very unlike her usual self, she was also nervous and fidgety. Her best attempt to support Peter was to stay close to him and try and hold his hand whenever she could. He appreciated it more than she could know. 

There were a few other familiar faces, too. Detective Stacy showed up, as well as John Jameson. Happy was there, of course. Rhodey too, and Helen Cho and her husband. 

Peter was surprised to see Harry Osborn in from Los Angeles. He came up to him with his father. 

“Harry. I didn’t know you were coming out,” Peter said when he saw him. 

“Come on, Pete,” Harry said, smiling grimly. “I had to. May was… well, she was always kind to me.”

“My condolences, Peter,” Norman said gravely, his gaze as intense as always.

“Thank you,” Peter replied. 

“I wish I could stay longer,” Harry said. “I’m flying back out tomorrow.” 

“Oh,” Peter said. “Well… it’s good to see you.”

Harry nodded, and pulled him in for a quick hug. “I’ve missed you, Petey. I’ll come over again before I leave.” 

Father and son walked off, heading for the drinks table. 

And then… there was MJ. 

Peter saw her a few times from across the room before she finally came over. 

“Hey, Peter,” she greeted softly. Even in black, with dark circles beneath her eyes, she looked beautiful. 

“Hey,” Peter replied. His fist clenching the plastic cup tightened. 

She bit at her lip awkwardly. “How… how are you doing?” 

Peter had never been able to lie to her. “Not great.” 

“Right,” she said quickly. “I know. I -- I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay,” Peter said tiredly. 

There was a pause as Michelle looked at him closely. She obviously didn’t know what to say. Eventually, she said, “I didn’t believe it at first. When I heard about May. I thought -- I thought it must have been a mistake.”

Peter just sighed. “No mistake.” 

“I know,” MJ said quietly. “Listen… I know things are -- weird, between us. But… you can call me. You know. If you need anything.”

He clenched his jaw, and nodded. “Thanks,” he said. 

MJ raised her hand then, like she was going to bring it to his cheek, but she stopped herself and pulled it back. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. Then she turned slowly, and with one last glance, walked away. 

Peter had to close his eyes for a moment.

This was the first time he’d seen her since he’d left the apartment that day. Seeing her brought up memories that he hadn’t thought of yet -- ones of him and May and MJ. May had loved MJ. Had treated her almost like a daughter, especially since MJ’s own mother wasn’t around. 

She must have been hurting, too. 

So many people had cared for May. All the people who had come -- they had all been affected by her life, at least in some small way. 

It wasn’t fair. 

As Peter looked around the room again, something cold and sharp crept into his chest. 

Someone had done this. Someone had taken light from the world, and pushed in pain.  _ Carnage _ had done that. 

And as he stood there, Peter knew he could never let it happen again. 

Carnage needed to be stopped. 

And Peter was going to stop him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem is by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and is called "the Tide Rises, the Tide Falls."


	15. Chapter 15

Sunday evening after the funeral, Pepper and Morgan said their goodbyes. Morgan had missed enough school, and they needed to go back upstate. As they left, Morgan gave Peter a teary goodbye. 

“Why aren’t you coming home with us?” she asked him, hugging him tight. “It’s safe at home.”

“Sorry, Mo,” Peter tried to explain. “I can’t go. But… I’ll see you again soon, okay?” 

She pulled back and looked him in the eye. “Come visit,” she ordered. She turned to Tony. “Dad, make him come visit.” 

“I’m working on it, believe me,” Tony said, shooting Peter a loaded look. 

“Morgan, tell your dad I’m gonna be fine,” Peter said. 

Pepper stepped up to hug him, too. “You don’t have to be fine, Peter. Just be safe, okay?”

“Always.” 

Peter heard Tony scoff quietly. 

“Alright,” Pepper said reluctantly. “Bye everybody. Tony, we’ll see you at home.”

Tony gave her and Morgan a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be there tomorrow night.”

Pepper and Morgan waved their last goodbyes and climbed into the car. After they drove away, Peter paused on the curb, looking out after them. 

Tony stepped up next to him. “Right. You ready?” he asked quietly.

Peter let out a long breath. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. Let’s go.” 

Happy looked between them. “I’ll go get the car.”

“You know, we don’t have to do this, yet,” Tony said with a shrug. “You could stay here a little longer.”

Peter just shook his head. He’d already decided. “No time like the present.” 

“Tomorrow,” Tony suggested with a wry smile. “Tomorrow’s not a bad time.” 

Peter just shot him a look, and Tony raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. We’re going. Just… making sure.”

“You know,  _ you  _ could have left with them,” Peter said, gesturing to the street where Morgan and Pepper had gone. 

Tony looked at him like he was crazy. “Like I could have left you to do this alone. No way.” 

Peter just shrugged. Inside, though, he was grateful. 

Happy pulled up in front of them in the car, and they got in. It was a slow drive into Queens because of the traffic, so Peter had plenty of time to think way too much about what they were doing. He imagined what it would look like -- what it would feel like. 

Because -- they were going back to May’s apartment. 

Pepper had gotten word the day before that the place had been completely cleaned -- Peter didn’t want to think too hard about what that meant -- so they could go back in. 

It was entirely too soon when they pulled up in front of the apartment building. As they walked inside, Peter avoided eye contact -- with Tony, Happy, and the neighbors who spotted him and stared. 

The final steps down the hall to their door was like walking through a fun house. Peter had to stick out a hand to steady himself against the wall. 

A hand on his shoulder. “You okay?” Tony asked softly. 

Peter swallowed roughly, and nodded. 

“You can do this,” Happy said.

After a long breath, Peter turned the lock, and slowly pushed the door open. 

For some reason, he had imagined something dramatic would happen when he did that. That maybe Carnage would be there, or that even after the cleaning the blood would still be there, spattered along the walls. 

Apparently, though, whoever Pepper had hired was good. The blood was gone. The wall had been repainted. And the spot of carpet where May had taken her last breaths had been replaced. The air smelled like nothing more than disinfectant and a scent that was probably Febreze. A few things had been moved around, but Peter assumed that was because of the police’s investigation. 

“Oh,” he breathed. 

Tony, who had been looking at a framed picture of May and an 8-year-old Peter, glanced over at him in concern. “What?” he said. 

Peter shook his head. He wasn’t even sure what exactly he’d been reacting to. “Just… oh.”

A knock on the door made Peter jump around, and he saw a man with white hair covered with a ball cap step through the open door. 

“Uh, hello?” Tony said aggressively. 

Peter quickly held up a hand. “No, it’s okay. Hey, Mr. Ditkovitch.” 

Ditkovitch pulled his hat off and nodded. “Hello, Peter.”

“He’s the landlord,” Peter explained. Tony relaxed. 

“Hope I’m not intruding,” Mr. Ditkovitch said, his voice slightly accented. “I -- I’m sorry for your aunt. May was… a beautiful, wonderful woman.”

Peter nodded. “Thank you,” he said quietly. 

“Um…” Ditkovitch shifted awkwardly on his feet. “Sorry if it’s the wrong time, but could I know if you are staying? If you are keeping this apartment? May paid through the end of the year, but that’s only a month away…”

Tony frowned and stepped forward, but Peter spoke up before he could say anything. “Uh -- yes. Well -- I don’t know, actually. Can I --” he swallowed. “Can I get back to you?” 

Ditkovitch hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Okay. But sorry, I need to know soon.” He looked around at the three of them. “Uh… good night, then.” He stepped out, and closed the door behind him. 

Tony scoffed, furious. “What an ass. I mean, Jesus -- you just got back.”

Peter shook his head and sighed as he moved to sit down at the dining table. “No, he’s not -- he’s a good guy. I… I don’t blame him.”

“You okay, Pete?” Happy said, stepping closer.

Peter looked away, unable to help the annoyance that flared up at the question. “Yeah. Fine. Can we just -- get some dinner, or something?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said quickly. “Happy, you wanna order some pizza for us?” 

“Uh… sure. Lemme just --” Happy opened the door and stepped outside. 

After he’d gone, Tony moved slowly to sit next to Peter. “You, uh... sure you’re --” 

“Tony, just --” Peter shook his head and fought against the tightness in the back of his throat. “Don’t, okay? I’m fine.” 

Tony looked at him for a moment, and then leaned back, obviously unconvinced. “Right. Well, if you ever feel like skipping the bullshit, and talking -- I’m here.”

Peter rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh. He glanced over at that one spot of hallway before he looked up at Tony. “Seriously… I’m okay.” At Tony’s expression, he added, “I mean, I’m not good. Obviously. But… I’m gonna be okay.” 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” he shrugged. “I don’t know if I believe you, honestly. But I do trust you. So just… tell me. If you need something. Think you can do that?” 

Peter gave him a small smile. “Yeah. I can do that.” 

* * *

The next day, Happy and Tony packed up to leave. Peter helped carry their things to the car. 

“Bye, kid,” Happy said, squeezing his shoulder. “Call me if you need anything, okay?” 

Peter nodded. “Thanks, Happy.”

Happy smiled sadly and walked off to get in the drivers’ seat. 

Peter turned to face Tony, who was watching him, hands in his pockets. The weight of Tony’s gaze was unnerving, and he broke eye contact with the man only to force himself to bring it back again. It just seemed like Tony could see right through him, could tell that he was barely keeping it together. 

“Peter…” Tony said slowly. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay? Do you… Why don’t you come with us?” he offered again. “Back to the cabin. Or -- I could stay here, with you. You shouldn’t have to be alone right now.” 

Peter looked over at Tony and managed a small smile. “I’ll be okay,” he said. “Don’t worry about me.” 

“Easier said than done,” Tony said, huffing a laugh. Then he sobered, and added, “But, I know how hard this is. Believe me, I know. When my parents died, I didn’t have anyone. And the only person I  _ did  _ have turned out to be a selfish nutcase. I just… I don’t want you to feel alone.” 

Peter sighed. “Yeah. Well, I know I have you, right? Just a phone call away.” 

“That’s right,” Tony said firmly. “You can call me with anything. Just say the word, and I’ll be back here in no time.” 

“Yeah. I know. Thanks, Tony,” he said softly. 

Tony nodded, and pulled him in for one last hug, patting him on the back as he did. “Take care of yourself, Pete. I’ll talk to you soon.” 

With that, he climbed into the backseat of the car, and with one last wave, they were gone. 

* * *

Peter was gliding up the stairs, past doors he’d passed for years. He stopped in front of one, with the number that he knew so well. The one that meant home. 

His arm raised of its own accord and turned the knob. The door swung open silently. 

Beyond, the apartment was dark. Fear began to crawl in Peter’s chest. Something was wrong. Something wasn’t right. 

The dark was flooded with red, with a neon sign written in blood that read:  _ Carnage. _

A shrouded figure stood beneath, blood dripping down his face and arms. But this blood wasn’t glowing. It was dark and red. 

Peter saw suddenly that there was a person in the figure’s arms -- one with a face he knew so well. 

“May!” he called out desperately. But he wasn’t gliding anymore. His feet were sinking into the floor in a sticky black soup, and he could barely raise them. He couldn’t move any closer than he was. 

The dark figure raised his hand and plunged it into May’s chest. She screamed aloud, a tortured sound. Peter fell to his knees, reaching forward, reaching for her, but it was no use. It was no --

Peter came awake gasping, a sheen of sweat over his skin. The room was dark, and he moved fast to switch on the light, though it didn’t do much to settle him.

He ran a hand through his hair and tried to steady his breathing. As he did, he noticed a buzzing to his right -- his phone rattling on the bedside table. 

Peter saw who was calling before he answered it. “Stacy,” he said, almost surprised. He hadn’t heard from the detective in a while now. The man had called a few times after May, but Peter hadn’t had it in him to answer then. “What is it.”

But of course, there was really only one reason for Stacy to be calling. The conversation was short -- just long enough for Stacy to give him an address, and then hang up abruptly. 

Peter ground his teeth. 

There had been another victim. Yet another person had died at the hands of this maniac. Someone else -- someone else had come home and found their loved one on the floor. 

He shook his head. If only he hadn’t listened to Tony and gone out as Spider-Man. Or, if he’d used the days after her death to try and follow the trail instead of sitting around wallowing. But no, he’d been selfish. And someone else had paid the price. 

Peter pushed himself out of bed, feeling strangely unsteady. It was very early in the morning, and the city was quiet outside in the way it only was at this dark time of day.

Pulling on his suit helped to center him. It usually did. 

It had been almost a week since Tony and Happy had left town. In that time, Peter had spent every moment that he could out as Spider-Man. Still, the killer remained frustratingly elusive. He didn’t understand how no one was talking. How no one had seen  _ anything.  _ In this town, there were always people there watching. And yet even after now  _ twelve  _ victims, no one could say anything. 

Peter slipped quietly out of the apartment, his eyes skipping over that one bit of hallway as he did. 

He swung over to the crime scene as fast as he could, and soon landed on the rooftop next to where Stacy was smoking a cigarette. 

The detective nodded at him as he walked closer. “Spider-Man,” he greeted solemnly. 

“Hello, detective,” Peter replied. 

Stacy took a long drag of his cigarette, his eyes narrowing as he considered Peter. “Haven’t seen you around for a while,” he commented. He blew smoke out to the side. “What, did you leave town?” 

“Been busy,” Peter said shortly.

Stacy raised an eyebrow and looked him up and down. “Right. Is… everything okay with you? You seem -- I don’t know -- off.” 

Peter cocked his head. “Are we here to talk about my problems, or to find a serial killer?” 

Stacy shrugged, and tossed his cigarette on the ground. “I can multitask.” 

“Just… let’s just get in there.” 

“Alright, alright…” Stacy turned and headed for the door that led downstairs. “Geez. Sorry for asking.”

Peter let out a short breath through his nose. Then he followed Stacy in, and tried to change the subject. “Anything different in what happened here?”

Stacy shook his head. “It seems all the same. Same stab patterns, wall message… this guy’s got his routine down.” 

“What about the blood? His blood, I mean. Any matches come back on that?” 

“Not a damn one. Not that that’s surprising, really.” Stacy nodded to the officer stationed at the door to the crime scene and the door was opened for them. “Doesn’t make it any less frustrating, though. It feels like this guy’s rubbing it in our face.” 

“What?” 

Stacy glanced back at Peter. “That we don’t have the first idea who the hell he is.” He huffed angrily, then shook his head. “Here, the body’s by the window.”

A final step around the corner had them in full view of the bloody scene. 

For a moment, Peter’s lungs froze. It felt like he was back in May’s apartment. Like he was walking towards her as she struggled to take her final breaths. A faint buzzing started in his ears. The name Carnage, dripping in red blood on the wall, shone like a terrible neon sign.

“Hey.” 

Stacy’s voice startled him, and he turned his head sharply towards the detective. The older man was looking at him with brows drawn. 

“You okay there, kid?” he asked.

Peter swallowed. “Yeah,” he said quickly. “What? Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You just…” Stacy paused, and shook his head. “Nevermind, I guess.” 

Peter tried to keep his breathing steady as his eyes turned back to Carnage’s signature. Then he couldn’t seem to look away. But the longer he looked, the more something in his subconscious told him to look closer. 

“What are you thinking?” Stacy asked him. 

“Just…” Peter frowned. “I just feel like there’s something about this blood -- the blood he writes with. It seems... off.” 

Stacy studied the wall as well. “You’re right,” he said eventually. “It kinda seems a little too thick.” 

“Yeah,” Peter agreed.

“Hmm. It could be that he prepares it ahead of time. Blood coagulates as it sits.”

“Maybe,” Peter replied slowly. 

Stacy turned his gaze over to Peter. “What? You got a better idea?” 

“No,” he said. He shook his head. “I -- I don’t know. It’s just a feeling.”

“Well, those can be helpful. Sometimes our subconscious can put things together before we can. I wouldn’t discount it.”

Peter nodded slowly. “Right.” He looked at Stacy. “Do you think I could get a sample of the blood? So I could do my own tests?” 

The detective seemed surprised by the request, then paused to consider it. “Huh. Yeah. I think I can arrange that for you.” 

* * *

Sure enough, only a short while later Peter was swinging away from the crime scene, a vial of the blood from Carnage’s message in his fist. He couldn’t explain it, but something was telling him there was more that they weren’t seeing about the blood. There was something he’d seen in it at the crime scene -- something he’d seen before. He just couldn’t quite place it. 

He webbed the corner of a building and swung around it, changing his course to go towards Midtown. 

As Peter thought about the blood, his hand clenched tighter on the vial Stacy had given him. He paused on a rooftop and looked out over the east river, trying to settle his thoughts. 

The sun was rising over a city that looked grey and cold. December had settled in, and with it, the last of the leaves had fallen from the trees. The air maintained a temperature that was cold, but not quite low enough yet to freeze. 

Peter tried to focus on that as he looked ahead. But instead, all he could see was May -- the last time he’d seen her alive. The blood on the walls of their apartment that matched the blood in his grasp. 

He let out a frustrated growl and leapt off the roof, letting the air whip past his face for a moment before he caught himself with his next web. There was no time to think about that now. Not when there might be secrets hiding in this blood.

But he hadn’t made it much further before a noise below made him pause. It was a sound he recognized well by now -- the sounds of someone being mugged in the alley below. A glance down confirmed his suspicions. 

Peter webbed the vial of blood to the brick side of the building and lowered himself down to the pavement. As he did, he could make out the scene -- a wiry man was holding a knife up to the throat of a well-dressed woman. Another man stood watching closeby. The next street over was one that usually teemed with nightlife, so that even at this early hour there would be a few stragglers -- she must have just stepped aside for a smoke or something, and been jumped. 

Well, now it was time for Spider-Man to do some jumping. 

He landed right behind the attacker, and grabbed the man’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. “Excuse me, sir. I don’t think that’s how you treat a lady.”

“The fuck --” The man turned to look at him, and as soon as he saw who was grabbing him, his eyes bugged out. “Oh, shit.” 

“Yup.” Peter nodded at the woman, who was staring at him, wide-eyed. “Excuse me, ma’am.” 

He pulled the attacker off the woman and threw him against the alley wall, shooting a web at the same time. The man was pinned by webbing a few feet above the ground. He struggled, but the webbing just continued to harden.

The other guy who had been standing by unfroze and turned to run off. 

“Nuh-uh,” Peter said, leaping to follow him. “Not happening, man.”

The two of them burst out onto the street, where there were a few other people out and about. 

“Whoa!” Peter heard one say. “Is that Spider-Man?” 

Peter ignored them and shot a web out to catch the fleeing man. The web affixed itself to the back of the guy’s jacket. The man cried out as Peter pulled on the web, pulling the guy back with it. Peter swung the web around, intending to throw him against the nearest building like he’d done with the other mugger. 

What happened next would haunt Peter for a long time. 

It all happened in a flash. Somehow, he hadn’t looked. He hadn’t seen -- not until it was too late. That there was someone else in the way.

When two men fell to the ground instead of one, there was confusion among the others around. Then a woman screamed. 

Peter quickly webbed down the man he’d been after, then stepped forwards. 

“Jesus,” he breathed. “I didn’t mean -- I didn’t --” 

There was an old man on the ground, his eyes shut. Blood streamed down his forehead.

“Oh, my God,” someone said. “Is he dead?” 

A young woman raced forwards and put a hand on the old man’s face. “Dad! Dad, wake up!”

“Someone call 9-11!” Another man said. “I can see him breathing!” 

Peter tried to step forward to help, but a hand pressed against his chest pushed him back. “Don’t come any closer. Look what you did. Just -- get out of here.”

“I’m -- I’m sorry,” Peter stuttered, feeling off-balance. He couldn’t look away. “I --” 

“Go!”

Peter tripped backwards, trying to get away as fast as he could while his gaze wouldn’t leave the old man who was unconscious on the sidewalk. 

“It was an accident. I’m so sorry,” he said again, desperately, before webbing a building and pulling himself off the ground. “I’m sorry.” 

* * *

Peter only made it a few blocks before he rolled to a stop on a rooftop. He pulled his mask up over his nose -- he couldn’t seem to get enough air.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Oh, my god.” 

How had that just happened? That had  _ never  _ happened. He always had a sense about these things -- he always knew where people were around him when he was fighting, even if it was only on a subconscious level.

“What did I do?” Peter gasped. He felt sick. “How did I not see -- I should have --” 

He’d just hurt an old man. An innocent man. 

“Gah!” Peter yelled, running his hands down his face. He took a few gasping breaths, trying to calm himself down. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

What could he do? Should he have taken the man to the hospital? Should he go and offer to pay for the treatment? No -- he couldn’t even afford that if he tried. 

“What do I do?” Peter muttered, running a hand over the back of his head.

As he looked out over the next few blocks, watching cars and people moving below, he felt his heart settle. Still, he couldn’t quite process what had just happened. 

Peter pulled out his phone, blindly searching for any sign that the man he’d injured was still alive. But there was nothing on him yet. The only thing he found was a video of what had just happened, recorded by one of the bystanders. 

Heart in his throat, Peter pressed play. The footage was shaky as it followed Spider-Man’s pursuit of the mugger, with occasional exclamations from the guy who had filmed it. And then -- it happened. Spider-Man swung the mugger into the side of the nearest building, catching the old man in the middle. 

_ “Oh, shit!”  _ gasped the man behind the camera.

Peter rewound and tried to follow the old man instead of watching himself. What he saw was someone simply pulling up the security gate to open up their storefront before turning in alarm at the scene Spider-Man caused. There was no time for him to move out of the way of the man that suddenly flew through the air towards him.

Peter gritted his teeth and squeezed his phone tight, stopping himself when he heard the metal creak under his fingers. 

When he refreshed the page, he saw that the  _ Daily Bugle  _ had already reposted the video with the headline: “SPIDER-MAN ATTACKS HELPLESS CIVILIAN!” 

Peter ran a hand over his face. “Fuck.” 

Well, he tried to reason as his teeth ground together, there wasn’t much he could do about it now, except stew over it. What was done was done. He’d messed up, but if he’d learned anything in life, it was that there were some things that couldn’t be undone.

But maybe something good still could come out of this day. If he could analyze Carnage’s blood, he might be able to find something. He’d have to make amends for hurting that old man later. 

Peter realized a moment later that he’d left the vial behind. He swung back stealthily to get it, and hung in the shadows of the alley for a moment to watch the old man being loaded into an ambulance. 

The sight made him release a relieved breath. At least he hadn’t killed the guy. 

When the ambulance doors slammed shut, Peter moved out of the alley and started moving towards Midtown once again. As he swung, he thought. 

He’d been planning on going to New Avengers Tower to look at the blood, but now it didn’t seem like such a good idea. There were too many people there -- too many eyes watching him who’d know what it was he’d just done. 

Was there anywhere else he could go? Maybe the Darcorp lab -- but no, people would be coming in for work soon. 

No, there was only one other place he could really go with this: the Baxter Building. 

Peter had broken into the Baxter Building once before -- that was how he’d originally met the Fantastic Four, actually. It was no simple task, but it was doable. And it was perfect; the place would be empty of people, since the FF was still in space, but full of the high-tech lab instruments that he needed. 

The entry point was on the roof, through one of the huge vents that circulated air conditioning and heating through the building. With one sharp tug, Peter pulled off the grate covering the vent, and then leapt inside. 

He exited the vent on what he thought was the right floor, then turned around and went down one more when he realized he’d been off. 

It was weird seeing the Baxter Building so quiet and dark, and as Peter crept towards the light switch, he felt like maybe he should have gone to the Tower. This felt wrong, somehow. 

But then he turned the lights on, and the feeling vanished. With the place lit, it felt like the FF were still there -- like maybe Reed had just left him for a few minutes in the lab.

“Right,” Peter muttered to himself, holding up the vial of blood to the light. “What are you hiding…?” 

As he twisted the vial this way and that, no light shone through -- even where the blood had only splashed up to coat the inside of the vial. “Hm.” The blood still seemed too thick, as well. There was something he was missing. 

Peter powered up the electron microscope and pulled out a sample case for the blood. He cringed as he poured it out and the blood dropped thickly onto the tray.

With the tray underneath, Peter adjusted the settings of the microscope. The blood first came into focus at a small magnification. Then he flicked through the settings, slowly making the blood cells appear larger and larger in the monitor. 

As he did so, Peter’s eyes widened. This wasn’t like any blood he’d ever seen before. The elements were there, but they were distorted. 

He frowned. There was something familiar about the way the blood interacted with itself, how it flowed. It seemed… unnatural. 

All at once, it came to him. 

“Oh, my god,” he breathed. 

Peter’s head felt clearer than it had in a long time as he stared down at the microscope. Finally, he had something to go after. And he knew exactly where to look. 

In fact… he wouldn’t even have to leave the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of this chapter was inspired by the comics:   
> Spectacular Spider-Man (1976) #215 (https://readcomiconline.to/Comic/The-Spectacular-Spider-Man-1976/Issue-215?id=19084)
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone. As always, I appreciate all of you, even though I've been bad at replying to comments lately! This chapter was an important one -- it sets off the rest of the story. I'm not totally in love with how I wrote it, but I hope you all enjoyed. Please, let me know your thoughts in comments, and I hope you have a good weekend.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! I'm sorry I've taken so long to update this story -- life kinda hit me in the face, and I lost motivation. This chapter was also just a real struggle for me, since it's so vital to everything that comes next.   
> Sorry if you have to reread to figure out what's going on, but maybe this will help: 
> 
> ~~Last time on Stairs In the Dark~~  
> Peter is left feeling helpless and angry after Aunt May becomes one of the victims of Carnage's devastating series of murders. While trying to follow possible leads, he ends up accidentally injuring an old man. However, while studying Carnage's blood at the Baxter Building lab, Peter discovers something that might be the first real step to putting Carnage down.

Peter’s eyes were drawn over to the door in the corner of the lab. The door that led to the same room that Reed had taken him into weeks ago. The memory seemed like something from another life. 

SHIELD was supposed to have come and taken the symbiote to the Raft for storage, but if they’d put it off… 

Venom would still be back there. 

Peter’s mind was still reeling at what he’d seen with the microscope. Venom and Carnage -- somehow, they were connected.

He frowned as he looked down at the monitor again to double check. How hadn’t he seen this before? It wasn’t a regular guy who was committing these murders -- it was someone with powers; someone who had been paired with the symbiote. 

Suddenly, the patterns they’d been seeing made a lot more sense. Rooms that had been locked from the inside must have been accessed from windows. No one had seen anything because with the powers of a symbiote, the killer could move through the dark without ever showing himself. And the ones who _ had  _ seen something were too afraid to admit it was real. 

Peter pushed himself to his feet and leaned forward with his hands against the table. The only thing that didn’t make sense was  _ how.  _ If Venom was locked up… 

Heart suddenly racing, Peter was over to the door in a flash. He pulled the door open so quickly that he ripped the knob halfway out. 

But the sight he was met with made him let out a relieved breath. Venom was still here, and the case he was in was still stable.  __

Thank god for bureaucratic hold-ups. If SHIELD was any quicker, Venom would already be gone. 

The confusion remained, though. Because, if Venom was in here… what was killing people in Queens?

Peter stepped forward slowly, feeling that weird pressure build in the back of his head as he got closer and closer to the case. The black blob that was the symbiote hovered unmoving at the center. 

He looked down, and saw the dial that controlled the frequency playing inside the case. The frequency needed to keep Venom inert was extremely specific, Peter recalled. 

_ Any less and it would be able to break free,  _ Reed had told him.  _ Any more and it would be in pain.  _

Without pausing to think, Peter reached out his hand towards the dial. 

Finally, he had someone to confront. Someone who would have answers. And he wouldn’t stop until he got them. 

He turned the dial a little to the right. 

The effect was immediate. The symbiote began to squirm, slowly forming tendrils that snaked outwards towards the sides of the glass. 

Then, it spoke. The voice came from Venom even though the creature had no mouth. It felt like nails scratching the inside of Peter’s head.

“Spider… man?” 

Peter cocked his head at it. “That’s right. Wakey wakey, Venom. We’ve got a lot to talk about.” 

One of the slimy tendrils snaked out to touch the glass, but before it could, Peter turned up the dial quickly before turning it back down again. 

Venom twitched as if shocked, and let out a noise of displeasure. “What… is this? Where are we?”

“Somewhere you won’t get away from,” Peter said shortly. “Now listen closely --”

_ “ _ No --  _ Where is Eddie?”  _ Venom screeched suddenly, the black matter of his body expanding. 

“Ryker’s prison,” Peter said with satisfaction. “He’s been there for a few months now, actually, while you’ve been here taking a little nap.” 

Venom froze, then slowly started to spin within the case. “No,” it said.  _ “No!”  _

Peter clenched his teeth in frustration and turned up the dial again, this time leaving it up. “Listen to me!” he snapped. Venom twitched and growled. Peter pointed at it. “The only reason you’re conscious is because I need answers. I don’t have an excess of patience right now, so cooperate or I’ll shut you down again. Got it?” 

“What do you  _ want?”  _ Venom asked, the strange voice a little more tightly wound. “What do you want from us?” 

“Carnage,” Peter said simply, fist tight at his side. “Where -- is -- Carnage.” 

“Carnage?” He had never heard Venom sound confused before, but it did now. “Who is Carnage?”

He shook his head sharply. “No. Don’t play me. You know what’s going on.”

There was an extended pause from Venom as Peter waited expectantly. 

His anger spiking at the silence, Peter turned up the dial again, and the symbiote twisted in pain. “Who is it?” he snarled, stepping closer to the case. The vibrations he felt in the back of his head pushed him back, but he fought against them. “Who else are you possessing?” 

“Eddie!” Venom said, the pain in its voice evident now. “We only possess Eddie!” 

Peter scoffed. “Are you listening to me, space snot? Eddie Brock is in prison. Now  _ who else  _ are you working with?” 

“There is no more of us. We are here. Only here.” 

“Well then, how do you explain that there’s someone else out there with your symbiote in their blood?”

Another pause, shorter this time. Then it spoke again, it’s voice still grating. “No… we would know.” It seemed like it spoke more to itself than to Peter. 

Peter frowned. “Would know what?”

Venom growled. “There is -- no -- other.” 

“Other?” Peter let go of the dial in sudden surprise. “You mean -- are you saying there are more of you?  _ Other  _ symbiotes?” 

“They are formed of us. We would know.” 

“You would know?” Peter spat. “I am  _ telling  _ you. There is someone out there right now, with your symbiote in their blood.  _ Who -- is -- it?”  _ He reached for the dial and turned it up sharply. 

Venom cried out. “Eddie!”

“Wrong. Who  _ else?” _

Venom growled again. “No! We need… Eddie! We are not strong enough -- not without Eddie.” 

Peter was incredulous. “Strong enough? What do you mean, strong enough? You can talk, can’t you?” 

“Without Eddie… We are not  _ strong  _ enough. We cannot  _ sense  _ the others.”

Peter shook his head. No. This couldn’t be happening. Not when he was  _ this close.  _ He turned up the dial even further, ignoring Venom’s screams and his own climbing headache. “Try for me anyway,” he said coolly. “I need to know  _ who.  _ Who is  _ murdering  _ people in my city!” 

“We -- don’t -- know!” Venom screeched. “Not without Eddie!” 

Peter fumed. It wasn’t possible. Venom had to know! He turned and slammed his fists on the worktable, leaving dents in the metal and sending supplies flying. “No!” he yelled. He pointed at Venom. “You know! Tell me!  _ Now!” _

_ “Eddie!”  _ The black symbiote writhed in its case.  _ “Eddie!” _

“Gah!” Peter let out a wordless cry of frustration before reaching forwards and snapping the dial back to its original level. 

Venom was instantly still, frozen by the frequency. 

Peter felt the opposite. He gripped at his face in anger and leaned his forehead against the case, his shoulders heaving with his breaths. All he wanted in that moment was to crush the glass case beneath his fingers -- to squeeze the truth out of the symbiote that wouldn’t give him the answers that he desperately needed.

“Shit,” he breathed, and pushed himself away from the case. He stared at Venom for a moment before shaking his head. “No. This has to be a trick. You  _ know!”  _

The symbiote remained still. 

Peter let out a groan of irritation. “You know,” he said again. It had to be a trick. Venom just wanted to be reunited with Brock. “I can’t -- I can’t just  _ give  _ you back to him!”

But the fierce need for answers rose within him, fighting against his reasoning. He started pacing in front of the case.

All Peter had to do was bring Eddie back here. It would be so easy. The security at Ryker’s was a joke; his enemies had broken out of there enough times for him to know that. He could have answers -- know who and where May’s killer was -- maybe even within the next few hours! 

“No,” he breathed. He couldn’t. Reuniting Venom with Eddie would require him to be released from his cage -- something he couldn’t risk. There couldn’t be  _ two  _ symbiotes wandering around out there. 

Because that’s what Carnage was -- not a part of Venom, like Peter had originally thought. The way Venom had phrased it --  _ they are formed of us.  _ It seemed more like… an offspring. 

Carnage. The blood-stained signature flashed in Peter’s mind again. Unable to stop his memories, he saw May, bleeding… her reaching out to him… 

The anger bubbled up again, making him clench his fists. 

It was worth it, he decided suddenly. Whatever happened, it was worth the risk. Knowing the truth was worth the risk. 

Peter straightened, and turned to the door. 

It was time to stage a prison break. 

* * *

Breaking into Ryker’s was shockingly easy to do.

The hard part was following through with it. 

As Peter waited for night to fall over the city, he paced back and forth on the Queens side of the Rykers Island Bridge. Every few minutes, he had to stop himself from swinging away. After all, this wasn’t just illegal -- everything Peter did as Spider-Man was technically illegal, that didn’t bother him -- this was  _ wrong.  _ He was about to reunite Venom on the small hope that he could get answers about Carnage. 

There was definitely a large chance he would come to regret this.

But at the same time, that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that he might be able to find Carnage. He might be able to catch the guy who -- who --

Peter ground his teeth and looked out across the water Rykers, the sun setting behind him. The lights of the prison were beginning to shine in the darkening sky.

Without pausing to consider anything again, Peter began to move. 

He swung from one part of the bridge to another, leaving behind trails of webbing. He stuck to the shadows, pausing when cars passed on the road. Then, before he reached the end of the bridge, he jumped off of the side and began to crawl on the underside out of sight. 

The bridge guards didn’t even look his way as he scampered towards the main facility. 

Peter had looked up the blueprint for the prison, and thought he had a good idea of where Brock would be. Of course, there was a chance that this wouldn’t work. But he wasn’t going to think too much about that. 

First, though, he needed to access a computer, or a least a file system, because he needed to find out exactly where in the facility Brock was being held. Hopefully he could do this without being seen. 

He snuck in through a side door, leaping over the tall barbed wire fence and glancing through the window before making his way inside. He was in a dark hallway, the only light coming from the bright red exit sign. 

Peter crept forwards, his heart beating in his throat as he kept his senses keyed for any movement ahead of him. He could hear two people talking a few rooms over, but the nearest office sounded empty. 

When he tried the door, it was locked, of course. But that had never been a problem for him. One swift movement had the knob crumpling in his grip, and he pushed the door open quietly. 

The office inside was dark, but thankfully when he tried the mouse Peter found that the computer was still on, left unlocked by whoever used this room. It wasn’t as simple as he anticipated to find the inmate files, though, and he spent longer in the office than he’d wanted to. As he searched for Brock’s name, he heard the two voices come closer and closer to his door, and his anxiety rose with it. 

What if they came down this way and saw the doorknob? What if one of them was whoever used this office? Peter tried to keep his breathing steady as he clicked furiously through names in the disorganized files. 

Finally, he found Brock’s file, and let out a breath. Now he had the location -- what came next was the easy part. Except not really. Except what came next was the part he couldn’t believe he was about to do. 

Peter was about to step back out into the hallway when he heard the two voices right outside the office. Eyes wide, he froze with his back against the wall by the door.

“Are you serious?” One voice was saying. “And he told you all that himself?” 

“Well,” the other man said, “He told Chris. This is just what Chris told me.” 

They passed by the door, and Peter remained completely still, not even breathing. 

“Man, you know you can’t believe anything that fool says,” the first guy replied. “I’ll believe it when I hear it from the source.” 

“Good luck getting that, then. I’m just sharing what I heard.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. You don’t know shit.” 

The voices were fading as they continued down the hall and away, and Peter slowly relaxed. He took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves, and then raced back outside the way he came. 

Outside the building, he jumped from one shadow to another, pausing for the occasional guard as he made his way to the other side of the facility where the cells were. Brock wasn’t in the highest security area, but it was close. Something had gone Peter’s way, though -- for some reason, Brock was in a cell alone; he had no roommate. That would make things a little bit easier as Peter pulled him out. 

Just outside the wing that held Eddie Brock, Peter paused behind a corner of the building and tried to settle himself. He had the feeling of a brick in his stomach -- he knew what he was doing was wrong, and he already felt guilty. But there was no way he was backing out now. Not when he could possibly have answers by the end of the night. 

There was no turning back now. 

With one final breath, Peter leapt out of the shadows and into the prison. 

He found the hallways suprisingly empty as he scurried along the ceiling. He supposed because it was nighttime, fewer guards were needed for the area. Still, though, whenever Peter saw a camera he covered it up with webbing. He was just reaching the cell block when he saw his first guard. The man was sitting in a chair, reading a magazine, and hadn’t even spotted Peter yet. 

Slowly, Peter lowered one hand from the ceiling, and in a moment the guard was pinned down by webbing. Another shot covered his mouth to keep him from calling out. 

The guard’s cry was muffled by the webs, and he looked around frantically. When he spotted Peter, his eyes widened, and the muffled noises increased. Peter couldn’t look him in the eye. He shot a few more webs for good measure, and then moved on. 

When he got to the doors, though, he wasn’t so lucky. 

As he came around the corner, the guard stationed at the entrance to the cell block saw him immediately, and stood up in shock. A moment later, a siren was sounding in the halls and a red light flashed for emergency. 

Peter cursed and jumped down to floor level. He had to move quickly now. One kick had the door flying off its hinges, and a shot of webbing trapped the guard against the wall. 

“What the hell are you doing, man?” the guard yelled as Peter walked past him to the next door and pushed that one down as well. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter said quietly, and jumped past the door and into the cell block. He ran fast past the cells, his feet quiet on the linoleum floors. Faces popped up from behind the bars, and others called out after him -- “Spider-Man?” “Yo, that’s Spidey!”Other exclamations were covered by the rising voices and the alarm. Peter ignored them, and slid to a stop a minute later in front of Eddie Brock’s cell. 

Brock was sitting on his bunk, obviously confused. Then he caught sight of Spider-Man, and stood up slowly. “No shit,” he said. He gestured to the wailing, flashing siren. “This is you?” 

Peter ripped the cell bars off and tossed them to the side, where they landed heavily, the sound reverberating through the halls. 

“You’re coming with me,” Peter said gruffly. 

Brock had a glint of fear in his eyes. “What’s this about?” 

Impatient, Peter reached through and grabbed his arm before pulling him out. “You’ll find out.” 

Peter started running back where he came from, pulling Brock along behind him. As they approached the entry station, Peter saw that there were a whole load of guards there now -- maybe ten in total.

“Turn left, turn left,” Brock said quickly, breathless from running. “There’s another way out.”

With no time to question it, Peter listened. He could have probably taken out the guards alone, but there was no telling if he could do that with Brock in tow. 

They continued along the darker hallway to the left, the sounds of the alarm still filling Peter’s ears, the flashing red light illuminating the space. 

“Right here!” Brock said, and they turned again. The area opened up into what looked like the cafeteria, and there was a door in the back. “There,” Eddie gasped. 

They pushed through it and out into the night. The space looked like the yard, where inmates could come and walk around outside. It was surrounded by a tall metal fence topped with barbed wire -- but that was no trouble for Peter. 

“Whoa,” Brock cried out as Peter lifted the man under his arm and began to climb up the fence. It was a bit awkward, but he managed to get up and over without issue. They landed on the other side of the fence heavily, and Peter pulled Brock in the direction of the bridge. 

The siren was quieter now, but they could still hear it going as they made their way farther and farther from the facility. 

“Holy shit,” Brock was gasping, as if finally realizing that he was actually being broken out of prison. 

“Shut up,” Peter hissed, and pulled him into a shadow. A moment later, a truck passed by, its headlights just missing their hiding place.

Then they were moving again. They weren’t far from the bridge now. 

But as they turned around the next corner, two guards were revealed. Peter pinned down one with webbing, but the other was quick, and raised his pistol. It was only because of his spider-sense that Peter knew which way to dodge when the shot rang out. 

He fired webs again, and the other guard was stuck to the ground. “Over here!” the man yelled. “Over here!” 

“Shots fired!” a voice called out in the distance. 

Peter grabbed tightly onto Brock’s arm, raced for the drop off near the bridge, and leapt off. He heard Eddie let out a surprised grunt as he webbed the underside of the bridge and they started swinging for Queens, the sounds of sirens picking up from behind them.

Peter didn’t pause until they’d gotten over the bridge, and gone another few blocks for good measure. He landed roughly on a rooftop, pushing Brock down in the shadows behind an AC unit. His breaths came quick, the adrenaline from what he’d just done still raging in his veins. 

“Is that really Spider-Man?” Brock said, pushing himself up. “Did Spider-Man really just --”

Peter looked over at him sharply. “Be quiet. You have no idea what’s going on.” 

Brock cocked his head. “Are you so sure about that?” 

Peter just glared at him. There was no way that Brock knew anything. He might know about the murders, sure -- everyone knew about that. “What is it about, then?”

“Well… I know you’re not gonna kill me,” Brock said. “If you were gonna, you’d have done it already.” 

“Doesn’t mean I won’t if I need to,” Peter warned. 

“But if you’re not gonna kill me,” Brock continued as if he hadn’t spoken, looking at him intently, “What  _ do  _ you want?” 

Peter let out a sharp breath. “Come on, get up. We don’t have time for this.” 

“You broke me out of prison. But you’re the one who put me there, so it must be important.”

He pulled Brock up sharply by his arm. “Up. We’ve gotta move.” 

Brock was looking at him carefully now, before a smile slowly made its way across his face. “This isn’t about me. You need something from Venom.” 

Peter’s breaths picked up again as his frustration rose. 

Brock’s grin was wide now. “That’s it, isn’t it? What do you need? Is this about those murders?” 

“What do you know about it?” Peter snapped sharply, his grip tightening on Eddie’s arm. 

Brock just chuckled lightly. 

Peter ground his teeth. “Do you think this is a game?” he asked dangerously. “Is this  _ fun  _ to you?”

Eddie shrugged. “I might enjoy seeing you riled up, yeah.” 

“Well then, enjoy the rest of the ride like  _ this,”  _ Peter said, and webbed Brock in the mouth. Even though the convict could no longer make a sound, he still looked amused. 

Peter just looked away from his face before grabbing him and leaping from the building, heading for Midtown. 

* * *

It was a little more difficult getting into the building this time, solely because he was lugging a man still wearing his prison jumpsuit with him. He managed it, though, and soon enough the two of them were in front of the room that held the symbiote. 

When Peter opened the door, Brock let out a satisfied noise at the sight of Venom hovering in its case. Peter pushed him to the side and webbed his hands together to keep him from trying anything.

Here was the moment of truth. Hopefully he could play this out in his favor. 

Peter stepped up to the case and turned the dial up high right off the bat. The symbiote twitched to life with a strangled cry. 

It took less than a moment, however, for Venom to realize who Peter had brought with him. 

“We missed you, Eddie,” Venom hissed, its voice scraping the inside of Peter’s head. 

Brock’s mouth was still covered with webbing, but his eyes shone gleefully. 

“Yeah, enough with the reunion,” Peter snapped, glaring at Venom. “I did what you asked. Now tell me what I want to know,” he demanded. 

A black tendril reached out towards the glass. “Eddie…” 

“Where is Carnage?” Peter yelled. “Tell me  _ now!” _

A muffled chuckle came from Brock. 

Feeling desperate, Peter reached back and grabbed onto Brock, yanking him close and holding a fist above his head. “Tell me, or he gets it!”

_ “No,”  _ Venom growled.

Peter looked between Brock and Venom, breathing heavily, before sending his fist into Brock’s face. “Tell me!” he roared.

The symbiote struggled to expand against the painful frequencies it was trapped with. Then one tendril snapped out suddenly and struck the glass. 

Peter felt his chest freeze as he realized what was happening. 

“No!” he cried as he reached for the dial. 

But it was already too late. A crunching, snapping sound filled the room as the glass spiderwebbed and cracked around where the black tendril had struck it. Then, with a rush and a roar, the glass case collapsed and shattered, sending glass flying. 

The noise that filled the air was excruciating. Peter’s hands unconsciously flew up to cover his ears, releasing Brock in the process. The vibrations should have been debilitating for Venom, but the presence of Eddie seemed to be giving it strength instead. 

The symbiote reached out, and Brock reached back towards it. 

In a moment, they were bonded, the black ooze that was Venom spreading and covering Brock’s body. 

Finally, it covered Brock’s face, and a horrible sound that could only be a laugh came from the newly-formed mouth. 

“You really should have just asked Eddie, you know,” Venom said, smiling cruelly. 

In a flash, Venom knocked Peter to the side and rushed from the room.

Peter lay on the floor for a moment, unable to move. Then, with a groan, he pushed himself to feet. Shoving aside broken equipment, he rushed for the frequency dial and turned it down. 

The silence that reigned made Peter fear that he’d gone deaf. Indeed, things sounded distant as he pulled himself from the room and out into the lab, looking for any sign of Venom. 

The lab was in ruins. Equipment was strewn about, with glass and bits of metal covering the floor. 

Peter forced himself to ignore it as he made his way for the air shaft. Once inside, he scrambled through until he could send a blast of webbing up as far as he could towards the roof. A swift yank had him sailing upwards, and it was only another few moments before he burst out onto the roof. 

His ears rang as he looked out across the city, searching for any signs of the black symbiote. 

But there was nothing. 

Peter let out a sound of broken horror. He’d failed. 

Venom was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think of this chapter -- it was a bit of a struggle so I'd appreciate any feedback! Also, I've already finished the next chapter, so that'll be coming soon.   
> Thank you all for reading, and have a good weekend!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone for interacting with this fic! Y'all make this whole journey so fun.   
> That being said, don't hate me for this one lol. Our boy Pete is in kind of a bad place here.

Peter’s phone rang five times as he headed back to May’s apartment. Each time he ignored it, and tried not to look at who it was that was calling. Despite that, he still noticed Tony had called a few times. 

It was early morning now, and the day was biting cold as Peter swung through the city, the sky locked with grey clouds. 

His stomach was twisting and turning, regret and guilt stewing nausea inside him. How could he have been so stupid? How could he possibly have thought this would work?

He’d fucked up. Absolutely and categorically. He could probably label this the worst he’d fucked up -- maybe ever. Because even though other things that had happened recently were objectively worse, this was entirely his fault. If he’d chosen the right path here, Venom would still be safely contained. 

Peter’s mind was whirring as climbed through the window of May’s apartment into his bedroom. He stripped off his suit angrily, tossing it to the side where it crumpled against the wall. 

His phone started to ring yet again, and this time Peter saw that it was Detective Stacy. He winced and picked it up, holding the phone to his ear. 

“Stacy,” he greeted gruffly. 

_ “Spider-Man,”  _ Stacy replied. He sounded tense already.  _ “I’ve been trying to reach you. You maybe wanna explain what the hell exactly happened last night?”  _

Peter ran a hand down his face, feeling the shame and guilt pressing down heavier on him. “I figured out something big. Something about Carnage.” 

_ “What is it?”  _

“No, I --” Peter shook his head. “I need to talk to you in person. Can you do that?” 

Stacy paused.  _ “If you can give me a good reason for why you broke Eddie Brock out of prison, maybe. I want to believe you had a reason for it, but…”  _

“I did,” Peter said quickly. “I -- it was a mistake. A big one. But I needed -- information. Listen, I really need to talk to you. I can explain everything.” 

_ “Well…”  _ the detective paused again.  _ “I’m gonna try and trust you on this one. I’m not some  _ Daily Bugle  _ reporter -- I don’t think you’ve turned villain or anything. But you’re gonna need to have some quality explanations ready for me.”  _

Peter felt a little relieved at the fact that Stacy wasn’t immediately writing him off. “Good. When can we meet?” 

_ “I can’t today. Trying to clean this up is gonna take a while. But I wanna hear what you’ve got -- tomorrow at noon, how about? Meet me on top of the apartment building next to the station.”  _

Peter let out a breath, feeling a little impatient, but only said, “Okay. See you then.” 

_ “Don’t be late.”  _ Stacy hung up, leaving the dial tone to ring in Peter’s ear. 

Peter pulled on a pair of sweats and walked to the kitchen as he debated looking through his phone for news about what he’d done last night. From what Stacy had said, the  _ Daily Bugle  _ must have done a big piece -- not that that was a surprise. Jameson had always had it out for him, and this would probably seem like justification for everything he’d ever written. 

He was about to open Twitter when his phone rang again. It was Ned this time. 

Peter almost declined the call. He didn’t really want to explain himself right now, not when he already felt terrible. But then just sighed, and accepted it instead.

_ “Peter?”  _ Ned said immediately.  _ “Is that you?”  _

“Yeah, you’ve still got the right number,” Peter said dryly. 

He heard Ned let out a relieved breath.  _ “Are you okay?”  _

“I’m… fine,” Peter bit out. There was a pause.

_ “So… you know I have a twitter alert out for you, right?”  _ Ned said.  _ “And I’ve been seeing some weird stuff. Like… I don’t know… breaking someone out of prison?”  _

Peter sighed. 

“Please  _ tell me it’s all fake. I just -- I mean, I trust you, I just -- I’d love an explanation. Did someone steal your suit?”  _

Peter closed his eyes and rubbed his face with his hand. “No, it’s real. It was me.”

There was a pause before Ned replied,  _ “Okay… and is there a reason, or… are you changing sides, or something? Was it SHIELD? Did they make you do it?"  _

“No, I’m not turning evil,” Peter shot back. “And it wasn’t them, either. It was  _ me _ . I’m just trying to figure this out!” 

He realized that last bit was a little too loud, and tried to take a calming breath. 

_ “Figure what out? You mean Carnage?”  _ Ned asked. 

“Yes!” Peter said, frustrated. What else would he be referring to? “May was  _ \--  _ she -- she was  _ killed,  _ and I’m trying to find the guy that did it! I’m not evil, or crazy!” 

_ “Woah. I didn’t say that you were, man,”  _ Ned said.  _ “I just wanna know what’s going on.”  _

Peter grit his teeth and started pacing around the apartment, his heart beating quickly. “What’s going on is that there is a  _ murderer  _ out there! And no one seems to care!” 

_ “We do care,”  _ Ned said, sounding hurt.  _ “I care. May meant a lot to me, too, you know. I want her killer found.”  _

“And that’s what I’m doing!” Peter said desperately. “No matter what it takes, I’m gonna find this guy. Venom was just part of the process.” 

Peter heard Ned suck in a short breath.  _ “Venom? He’s the one you broke out? None of the headlines said who it was.”  _

“I didn’t break him out,” Peter said shortly. “I broke Eddie Brock out.” 

_ “But -- that’s the guy -- he  _ is  _ Venom!” _

“And then Venom broke himself out. That wasn’t my fault,” he continued defensively. 

_ “Whoa, they’re both out?”  _ Ned paused again for a moment.  _ “This… doesn’t sound like you, Peter,”  _ he said quietly.  _ “I mean -- ‘no matter what it takes?’ Did I just hear you say that?”  _

Peter’s hand turned into a fist. “I’m doing what I have to. May’s dead,” he said bitterly. “And I’m gonna get this guy. I don’t care what -- or who -- gets hurt on the way. Even me.” 

_ “You’re… dude, you’re kind of scaring me.”  _

Peter ignored him. “I’m sorry, but I’m doing what I have to do,” he said again. “And I’m tired of explaining myself.” 

_ “Okay, okay,”  _ Ned said quickly.  _ “You don’t have to explain it right now, then. Just -- what’s your plan, then? For getting Venom locked up again?”  _

“I’m… working on it.” 

_ “Right…”  _ Peter heard Ned sigh.  _ “Have you called Tony?”  _

“No,” He said shortly. “And I’m not going to.” 

_ “And that seems like a reasonable thing to do, why?” _

Peter let out a frustrated breath. “Because this isn’t his problem, Ned. This is  _ my  _ mess. I have to fix it.” 

There was a pause.  _ “Peter… you don’t have to do this alone.”  _

“Well, there’s no one else doing it,” Peter snapped. He knew he wasn’t being fair to Ned, but in the moment he was too frustrated to pull back his tone. Probably better just to stop talking, then. He’d hurt enough people recently. “I’ve gotta go,” he lied.

_ “Right. Just… please be careful. And -- call me. If you need anything.”  _

“Bye, Ned.” He hung up and threw the phone onto the couch and let out a frustrated groan.

Agitated, he started to pace back and forth, trying to figure out what to do. There was nothing he could do to take back what he’d done, no matter how much he wished it. What he should do was get out there and try to find Carnage and Venom. But then… he had no way of finding them. When he’d gotten Venom, he’d located him using a sensor he got from Reed Richards -- but it had been destroyed in the explosion that helped take him down, along with the weapon that did the job. 

Peter froze. Could he track Carnage using the same technology?

It was possible… but then, he didn’t have access to it, and he had no idea how to begin to make something like that. Venom’s escape had left the Baxter Building lab completely destroyed. And he wasn’t about to ask Tony for help, not now that he’d messed up so bad…

His head was pounding against his skull, and he thought about finding some pain meds or something, but wasn’t sure where he’d put them last. 

As he paced around the apartment, useless thoughts swirled around his head. He couldn’t stop thinking over everything that had happened in the last… however long he’d been awake. All the choices he’d made that had resulted in the mess he was in now. 

Eventually, Peter picked up his phone, unable to stop himself from looking at the disparaging headlines and tweets between trying to find signs of Carnage or Venom. It seemed like the city had turned against him. He tried not to feel affected by it. After all, it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it. 

After a while, though, he had to turn off his phone. People kept calling him -- he saw Tony’s name and MJ’s flashing on the screen -- but he had no idea what to say. It had gone badly enough talking to Ned. 

He’d paced his way around the whole apartment by now. The guilt from what he’d done last night was still filling up his whole chest. He’d made bad decisions before, but this… 

Distantly, Peter heard a knock on the door, but ignored it. He was in no mood to talk to anyone who’d be at his door. 

It felt like it had been a while since he’d gotten home. And still, he couldn’t figure out what to do. He’d been so preoccupied with this that he hadn’t even thought of anything useful. 

Peter ran a shaky hand through his hair, trying desperately to think of something -- of anything. But he couldn’t focus… his chest felt like it was in a vice grip. 

And meanwhile, someone was still knocking on the door, more insistent now. Who the hell was that? Why wouldn’t they leave him alone?

A huge noise burst through his eardrums, and he jumped onto the ceiling in shock, his eyes wide and his heart pounding. 

Someone had just busted down the door. 

A huge spike of adrenaline shot through him, and he dropped to the floor and turned to face the entryway, hands up and ready to fight whatever came at him. 

But then he saw who it was, and… 

“Tony?” he said incredulously, dropping his hands to his sides and cocking his head. 

Tony was already walking in and right up to Peter. “Yup, it’s me. You should really answer your door more, Pete. People might start worrying about you.” 

Peter looked between Tony’s innocent expression and the broken-down door, and back again. “I’m sorry,  _ what?  _ What are you doing here? And why did you have to destroy the door?” 

“Those two things go pretty well together, actually,” Tony said, stepping further into the apartment. “But let’s start from the beginning.” He picked up a snowglobe from a side table and considered it, spinning it in his hands. His voice was worryingly calm. “First, I hear this story about Spider-Man hurting an old man, and I get confused. See, Spider-Man doesn’t hurt innocent people. But I see the video, and I see that it happened. That’s the first red flag. 

“Then, I get a notice about someone breaking into the Baxter Building. You see, Richards asked me to keep an eye on things, so I have access to their video feeds. I take a look at the security footage, and it’s Spider-Man. He’s talking to Venom.  _ Venom _ . The thing that crushed him with rubble and left him near dead in the hospital for  _ days _ . I think: no, that can’t be right. Peter would never do something so stupid. But I see you there on the security video, and I start to get a little concerned.”

Peter’s eyes were wide under the onslaught. 

Tony’s voice slowly filled with more tension. “Imagine how I feel then, when I find out what Spider-Man did next. That last night, he broke into  _ Ryker’s Prison, _ freeing the same person who Venom  _ possessed.  _ Then  _ brought  _ this person to the one thing he wanted to see,  _ Venom.  _ And that, because of this, that evil black mass of galactic goop has broken out of his cell and is back out on the streets.” 

Tony shook his head and placed the snowglobe back where it was. “And that’s when I really start to get worried. Add to that I have Ned calling me saying he thinks you’re trying to kill yourself with all of this, and that’s enough to get my ass in gear. Because the worst part is, I can’t seem to figure out where you are, or how you are.”

His eyes snapped to Peter’s, and his gaze was piercing. “You see, you haven’t been talking to me, Pete. You haven’t texted me -- haven’t been answering my calls. You could have been dead, for all I knew.

“So yeah, I punched down the door when you didn’t answer,” he said, waving his metal arm. “Forgive me for being concerned about you.”

Peter opened his mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to say and still a little shocked that Tony was there at all. 

Tony’s expression crumpled then, and he took a step back towards Peter. “Damnit, kid, what the hell were you thinking?” 

His tone of voice had Peter reacting defensively. “I was thinking that I have to solve this,” he said hotly, hands slowly curling into fists at his sides. “Thinking that Venom knew the answers to this fucked up problem, and the only way I would get those answers was if I brought back Eddie.” He crossed his arms, and shrugged a little, anger stirring in his stomach. “In retrospect, yeah, obviously it wasn’t that well thought out. And now people are gonna get hurt because of me. Again. So, I’m sorry.” He clenched his jaw, refusing to meet Tony’s eye. 

“This isn’t like you,” Tony said to him, shaking his head. 

“What isn’t like me? Trying to save people? Trying to stop a psychopathic rage monster from killing everyone? This is what I do! What Spider-Man does!” 

“Not like this,” Tony said. “Breaking criminals out of prison does not solve your problem here, Peter! And neither does running yourself ragged trying to stop this guy!” 

Peter couldn’t help scoffing at that. “That’s rich -- coming from you.” 

Tony took a shaky breath and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “How often have I told you: you’re _ better  _ than me! You’re better than  _ this,  _ whatever this nonsense is.”

“I’m only doing what I have to do,” Peter said. Then he recalled what Tony had said earlier. “By the way -- what? Ned thinks I’m trying to kill myself?” 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “I don’t blame him for thinking it. To be honest, you’re on a self-destructive spiral here. You need to take a breath -- sleep, eat! Looks like you haven’t done either of those things in a while,” he said, giving Peter an evaluative once-over. “Seriously, the depression beard is not a good look on you.” 

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Peter said petulantly. But even to his own ears, those words were sounding thin. He’d been saying them too often lately. 

“No,” Tony said, stepping forwards and grabbing onto Peter’s arms gently. He was staring directly into Peter’s eyes, but Peter couldn’t seem to look back at him. “You’re not okay, Peter. And you shouldn’t be. May --” Peter flinched, but Tony continued, “May is gone. And that  _ hurts.  _ I know it does. But you can’t keep doing this to yourself.” 

Peter stared determinedly at a spot on the carpet, his throat starting to feel tight. “I’m not  _ doing  _ anything to myself,” he ground out.

“But you are. And kid, it  _ hurts.  _ It hurts me to see you treat yourself this way,” Tony said desperately. “You need some time away from this.  _ Please, _ just -- come upstate with me. Get some R&R, and  _ grieve.  _ Then come back and tackle this thing when your head’s straight.” 

Peter swallowed roughly, and shook his head. When he finally met Tony’s eye, his lips were pressed together tight to keep them from trembling. “I can’t,” he said. 

“Please don’t say --” 

“I have to see this through,” Peter said fiercely. 

Tony just looked sad. “This isn’t something  _ you  _ have to do. We’ll call in some backup --” 

“What backup?” Peter asked, the rage building in his gut again. “There is no backup. You said it yourself -- the Avengers are out of the country, fighting something way bigger than this. They don’t have the time! The Fantastic Four are… somewhere in space. And the police are obviously way out of their depth. This -- this is  _ my _ problem.” 

Tony sighed, and was quiet for a moment before he said resignedly, “At least let me take you out to dinner, then. You look like a walking skeleton.” 

“You don’t have to do that. Like I said, I’m fine.” 

“Come on, kid. I came all this way. The least you could do is get a burger with me or something.”

Peter felt the weight of guilt at that moment, looking into the face of a man who was just trying to take care of him. He wished he  _ could  _ go upstate with him. But the lakehouse seemed like a dream -- something that he didn’t deserve right now. “Okay, we’ll get burgers,” he allowed. “And… I’m sorry. I should have called. I’ve just been… distracted.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Tony replied, looking a bit relieved at his response. “I mean, I appreciate it, but I didn’t come here for that. I came here to figure out what’s going on, and to make sure that you’re okay -- which you obviously aren’t by the way, let’s not skate over that. But, since you won’t go back home with me, the next best thing is burgers.” 

“I don’t know… I’m not really hungry.” 

“See?” Tony said, poking him in the arm. “That right there? You not being hungry? That has red flags all over it.” 

“Jesus, I’m not suicidal,” Peter said sharply. “You don’t have to worry about that.” 

Tony raised his hands in front of himself placatingly. “That’s not what I’m saying here. Not at all. I’m just saying you could use a meal. So we’re going.” 

“Right now?” 

Tony checked his watch, and shrugged. “Yeah, it’s six PM. That’s dinner time.” 

Peter blinked. He hadn’t even realized the whole day had passed. He distantly thought that was probably telling, but brushed it off. Instead, he said, “I can’t believe you came all the way here.”

Tony turned and put an arm over his shoulder, leading him towards the door. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Totally worth it to check in on you.”

They walked up to the splintered remains of the door, and Peter raised an eyebrow at Tony. 

“Oh, right. Uh… I’m not really sure what to do about this,” Tony said. “I didn’t plan on the aftermath, gonna be honest.” 

Peter shrugged. “It’s fine. Could we maybe just… order in? That sounds better to me anyways.” 

“Yeah, okay. Good idea.” 

* * *

The delivery man did a double take at the busted down door, but seemingly forgot to ask about it once he saw it was Tony Stark he was delivering for. He left with way more tip money in his pocket than the meal had cost. 

It wasn’t long before they were set up at the kitchen table, an unreasonable amount of food set before them. Tony always went overboard when he was worried, and obviously it was no different now. 

“So…” Tony said slowly, unwrapping his burger. They hadn’t really spoken since the food had been ordered. “You gonna tell me what’s been going on with you?”

Peter, who had been picking at his own wrapper, looked up with a flash of annoyance at the question. “Seriously?” 

“What?” Tony said defensively. “How exactly did you want me to start this conversation? I was trying for subtlety, but it’s not really my forte.”

Peter huffed a laugh through his nose. “Fair enough,” he said. “I just… I don’t know what you want me to say.” 

“Say… say what you’ve been thinking lately. You know, your thought process. I’d love to hear it.” 

“My thought process,” Peter repeated dully. 

“Yes!” Tony said eagerly. At Peter’s expression, he sombered. “Come on. Just… talk to me, kid. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on in that big melon of yours.”

Peter spun his burger slowly, considering how to answer. “I’ve just been trying to find him. To find Carnage.” He looked up, his eyes wide. “And I found something big, when I went to the Baxter Building. Tony -- it’s a symbiote.” 

“You mean Venom?” 

Peter shook his head. “No,  _ Carnage.  _ Carnage is a symbiote.” Tony’s eyebrows rose. “I think it’s a part of Venom… or maybe something like his -- child.” 

“So, that’s why you went after Brock,” Tony said, putting the pieces together. “To get answers.” 

Peter nodded. “I didn’t mean for Venom to get free. ‘Course, I should have realized what would happen…” he looked down at his burger bitterly.

There was a pause. Then Tony said, “You actually gonna eat? Or are you just gonna stare angrily at your burger all night?” 

Peter pressed his lips together. “I just… don’t feel good,” he admitted. 

“Just try,” Tony said gently. “I think it’ll help.” 

Slowly, he raised the burger to his mouth and took a bite. The salty meat was like heaven in his mouth, and suddenly he realized just how hungry he was. He took another bite. 

Tony smiled. “There we go.” 

Peter nearly inhaled the burger he ate so quickly, and didn’t hesitate when Tony handed him a second one.

Tony chuckled lightly, but sobered up a little when Peter looked at him. “Listen, Peter…” Tony said carefully. “Do you maybe wanna -- you know, talk to somebody?” 

“You mean like a therapist?” Peter asked. 

“Right. I’ve done it before,” Tony said quickly, at his expression. “It’s helped me out a lot, at different points in my life.” 

Peter sighed, and looked down at the table again. He knew Tony was saying that with his best interests in mind, and that logically, talking to someone would probably help. But for some reason, it still hurt a little to know that Tony thought he needed it. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. 

“You just seem a little… off, you know?” Tony continued. “And I mean, you have a good reason to feel that way, but that good reason is also why you should maybe see someone. This… this would mess anybody up.” 

Peter put his burger down and bit at the inside of his cheek. “I’m… I’m  _ angry.  _ All the time,” he said gruffly. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about it. I think about her face, and I think about that  _ monster --”  _ He screwed up his face and shook his head, feeling the rage pool again in his chest. 

Tony just sighed. “I know how you feel, Peter.” 

Peter looked at him sharply. “How could you --” he cut himself off suddenly, and let out a breath as he realized. “Oh,” he said quietly. 

“Yeah,” Tony said tiredly. “We’d just met, hadn’t we? Right before I found out Bucky was the one who killed my parents.” His words were short, like there was still hurt wound up in them. “And -- I know now that he wasn’t really responsible. I even kinda knew then, really. But… I wanted revenge, and he was the easiest target.”

Peter tore a piece off his burger. 

“I -- I know it’s not quite the same, but I do understand. The anger,” Tony said haltingly. 

Peter couldn’t help but think that it was different. Different because Tony wasn’t the one responsible for his parents’ deaths. Not like Peter was with his.

Nevertheless, he nodded. “What --” he stopped and cleared his throat. “What do I do?” 

“Well, you could get some sleep, for one thing,” Tony said. “When’s the last time you were even horizontal?” 

Peter paused, trying to think back. 

Tony huffed at the silence. “Yeah, that’s answer enough for me.” He put his hand down close to Peter’s on top of the table, making Peter look up. “Here’s what you do,” Tony said, holding his gaze. “You get some rest. You can’t do anything if you can’t even stand on your feet. And then… just take it one step at a time.”

Peter frowned. “And what steps are those?” he asked, feeling strangely defensive.

“Well, the offer still stands for you to come back upstate with me,” Tony suggested. “But if not that, then --” 

“I’m not doing that,” Peter reminded him sharply. 

Tony raised up a hand. “Right, right. Fine. Okay, well -- then you try and fix what you did. You’ve gotta find Venom before he does any real harm again.” 

“I didn’t mean for him to get out,” Peter said again, that same guilt reaching in to squeeze his chest.

Tony let out a sharp breath. “Well, I appreciate that Peter, but your intentions don’t really matter here, unfortunately.” 

Peter clenched his teeth at the tone of Tony’s voice. “I need some way to track him,” he said, leaning backwards. “Dr. Richards gave me something but since it kind of got blown up…” 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Right. And his lab was pretty much destroyed last night too, right? So there wouldn’t be anything there.” 

Peter held a hand up, feeling a flare of annoyance. “You know what? Just -- stop.”

Tony frowned at Peter’s sudden hostility. “What?” he said, confused. 

“I don’t need you to -- remind me -- of what I did. I  _ know  _ what I did.” 

“I know you do,” Tony said, his voice carefully calm. “But -- you asked me what you should do. I’m just trying to help you get things under control, okay? You made some bad choices last night --” 

Peter let out a heated breath, irritation sparking. 

Tony just continued, “You did some things that I think you wouldn’t have done if you were just in a little better state of mind. That’s the whole reason why I want you to come home with me --”

“No, Tony. Stop! I’m not leaving,” Peter spat. He felt a bit like he was being strangled. “And -- I don’t need your lectures. You’re the last person who should be telling me I fucked up.” His voice rose as he stood, throwing down his napkin. “And I fucking  _ know  _ I fucked up! I don’t need to hear it from you!” 

“Peter --” Tony started, his eyes wide, but Peter didn’t let him continue. He felt suddenly overcome with anger, and didn’t stop to temper his next words. 

“May was _murdered!_ And the guy who did it is still _out there!”_ Peter yelled, pointing to the window. “And you’re saying -- you’re telling me to go upstate? To do what? Sit by the lake and twiddle my fucking thumbs while more people are killed?”

Tony’s words were tinged with frustration as he replied, “That’s not what I --” 

“At least I’m trying to  _ do  _ something!” Peter fumed, starting to pace. “Yeah, I fucked up. But at least I’m trying to figure this out. Why does no one else seem to want answers? Someone needs to pay for this!” 

“You think I don’t want to find this guy?” Tony replied, his voice rising along with Peter’s. “I loved May! We all did! But throwing yourself at this like you’ve been doing -- that’s not how we’re gonna do this!” 

“Well, I’m not gonna stop,” Peter told him. “You can’t make me stop.” 

“I’m trying to help you!” Tony yelled desperately. He shook his head. “You’re destroying yourself, kid. I can’t just sit and watch it happen.” 

“I have to get this guy. If that means I have to step out of my comfort zone a little, that’s a small price to pay!”

“You’re not just stepping out of your comfort zone,” Tony said, still staring him down. “You’ve already done more than that with Venom. If you keep going like this, you’re gonna do something you really regret.” He shook his head. “I mean, with the way you’re talking it sounds like you want to do more than just catch this guy.” 

“I do,” Peter said levelly. He realized the words were true only as he spoke them. “Once I find Carnage, I’m gonna kill him.” 

Tony looked shocked. “Woah,” he said shakily. “Hold -- hold on a second. I mean, not to say this guy doesn’t deserve it, but -- you don’t -- that’s not  _ you.”  _

“I just said it, didn’t I?” Peter said coldly. He knew Tony wouldn’t understand, and he didn’t much care. He didn’t want to think about the  _ morals  _ of this. All he cared about right now was what felt right. 

Tony just stared at him uncomprehendingly. “What am I supposed to say to this? Do you want me to tell you that that’s okay? Because it’s  _ not.  _ You know it’s not.” 

“I don’t need to hear  _ anything  _ from you,” Peter snapped. “Just don’t get in my way.” 

“Peter… take it from me: revenge is not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s not gonna give you what you want. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but --”

“Shut --  _ up!”  _ Peter roared, taking a few steps back. “You don’t have any right to tell me what to do!” 

Tony was growing angry now, too. “I’m not  _ trying  _ to tell you what to do. I’m trying to stop you from fucking destroying yourself!” 

Peter couldn’t help himself -- all he felt in that moment was rage. Every issue he’d ever had with Tony felt like it was coming to the surface again. “You always think you can control me,” he spat, pointing at Tony. “You never trust me to do  _ anything!”  _

“That’s not true!” Tony cried, offended. “And if it was -- is this latest stunt of yours proof that you’ve got it all covered? Is setting Venom free supposed to prove that you’re all good on your own? Is talking about killing someone supposed to make me think your head’s on straight? I mean -- for fuck’s sake, Peter!” 

Peter’s head pounded as he stared at Tony, grinding his teeth. He let out a wordless cry of frustration. “I don’t need you!” He yelled at Tony. “You think I need you -- I don’t!” 

Tony’s chest heaved as he stared back. “Peter,” he said levelly after a moment. “If you kill this man --”

“How many people have you killed, huh?” Peter shot back. “I never do anything wrong. And now, there’s someone out there who  _ deserves  _ it. This will be  _ justice.” _

Tony shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Take a step back and  _ think  _ about what you’re talking about! You’ve always said you don’t want to be like  _ them --”  _

“You don’t even  _ care!”  _ Peter’s hands gripped the sides of his head. He wasn’t even sure what he was saying now, he just wanted to make Tony hurt like he was hurting. “You don’t care that May’s gone.” He glared at Tony. “Fuck you.” 

Tony froze for a moment, staring at Peter. Peter’s head just pounded harder in his skull. 

“Peter,” Tony said eventually, voice strained. “Let’s just… take a breath. You’re upset, I know --”

But Peter couldn’t even hear him over the blood rushing in his ears. “Just -- leave,” he bit out, a sob catching in his throat. “I'm sorry, I -- I don’t wanna hear it anymore.  _ Please,  _ leave.”

Tony looked at him, his gaze steady, and sad, and it was quiet for a stretch. “Okay. I can go,” he said finally. “If that’s what you really want. It doesn’t look like we’re gonna work anything out right now. But I’m still  _ here,  _ okay? I love you, kid. I just want to help.” 

Peter turned his back to Tony and glared at the floor. “Go,” he said again, more firmly this time.

He heard Tony walk slowly to the door, and then pause on the threshold. “I trust you, Peter,” he said softly. “I know you’ll do the right thing.” 

Then he walked past the broken-down door, leaving Peter alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! We've still got a few more twists and turns in this little tale, so I hope you stick with me.   
> Have a good weekend!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The return of MJ!

Darkness swirled around him, biting and cold. Peter stumbled forwards with one hand outstretched, unable to see more than a few feet ahead. 

It was never-ending, the black. He’d been walking forever, lost and blind. 

Still, even unable to see much, he felt like he wasn’t alone. There was something else out there, waiting. Something  _ evil _ \-- 

A figure appeared out of the black, his back to Peter. He was familiar, somehow. Different from the lurking malevolence; Peter knew the set of those shoulders. 

Then the man turned around, and Peter gasped, stunned by the terrified face that was revealed. 

“Ben!” he breathed. He tried to step forwards, but his feet were locked in place. In fact, the cold was so wrapped around him now that he couldn’t control any of his movement. Fear flooded him. 

Peter’s arm slowly raised of its own accord, and he was horrified to see what was held in his hand. A gun. 

Ben looked frozen by fear, his eyes locked on Peter’s. 

Peter tried to fight against himself, but it was no use. “Run!” he cried desperately. “Run!” 

But Ben only watched in silent horror as Peter pointed the gun at his head. And then, with no warning -- 

_ Bam!  _

Ben collapsed, a pool of blood forming rapidly around his head. 

“No,” Peter sobbed, still unable to move. “No!” 

As the bright red blood began to spread, Ben’s body began to shift and change. His face blurred and reformed -- this time, as a woman. 

It was May, her limbs splayed awkwardly and her head thrown back.

Peter fought with everything he had, but he couldn’t move a muscle, the cold holding him back. 

Then, the blood below the body slowly started to twist along the ground, forming letters. A name blared in front of his eyes --

Peter woke with a jolt, the sun streaming in through the open window and a sharp headache behind his eyes. 

Oh -- open window. No wonder it was so cold. 

Peter rubbed his eyes with his hand for a moment, trying to settle himself, before he pushed himself to his feet. He noted absently that he was still in his Spider suit as he walked across the bedroom and slammed the window shut. He must have forgotten to close it last night. He’d been so delirious from lack of sleep that he hadn’t been up to doing much of anything last night -- although not for lack of trying. 

After Tony had left, Peter only took the time to find something to block the front door before he’d escaped out into the night to go looking for signs of Carnage and Venom, of which he’d of course found none. He’d have to go out the window from now on, since the front door was pretty much nailed shut now. Not that it really mattered. He didn’t have anyone coming to see him anymore -- especially after what he’d said to Tony last night. 

Peter cringed away from the memories, feeling both full of regret and yet still angry with Tony. The little sleep he’d managed to get last night had settled him somewhat, but he didn’t understand why the man wasn’t trying to support him right now. Why wasn’t he pushing Peter to do everything he could to find Carnage -- and now Venom? It was only right that he had to fix this; that he had to end this. 

Sighing, Peter looked down at himself before reaching up a hand to run through his hair. “Eugh.” He was really a mess.

He huffed in disgust at himself. He couldn’t do anything right -- couldn’t even take care of himself properly. 

Peter shed himself of his suit and went to take a shower, almost subconsciously averting his eyes as he walked down the hallway to the bathroom. It was still so weird to be in the apartment without May, especially early in the morning. He expected her to pop up in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee. 

But of course, that would never happen again. Peter’s mood darkened, although the warm shower did help some. 

As he was toweling off, his cell phone rang from where it sat on the sink. It had been doing that a lot lately.

When Peter looked at the screen, he saw MJ’s name flashing. He almost pressed the decline button, but at the last second changed his mind. She’d called twelve times now since what had happened at the prison, and he knew she wouldn’t stop trying. Michelle was nothing if not stubborn. 

So, he might as well get this over with. 

“Hello,” he said gruffly after accepting the call. 

_ “Peter!”  _ MJ sounded surprised.  _ “You picked up!” _

Peter huffed and leaned against the sink. “What do you want, MJ,” he said tiredly. 

The frankness of his response seemed to trip MJ up a little bit.  _ “I -- just… I wanted to talk to you.”  _

“Well, here I am. Watch out, though -- it’s two ninety-nine a minute.” 

MJ didn’t laugh.  _ “Are you alright? There’s a lot going around about you --”  _

Peter felt a flare of annoyance. “You reading the  _ Daily Bugle  _ now or something?” 

_ “Peter, I’ve been seeing stuff all over the news about you. John even wrote one for the  _ Chronicle. _ I’m just -- I’m worried. All this stuff… this doesn’t seem like you.”  _

Peter pressed his lips together. It seemed like everyone had thoughts on his choices now. “Sorry, but how would you know what’s  _ me  _ at this point? You never see me anymore.” 

_“I know,”_ MJ sighed, sounding sad. _“I know._ _I… do you want to get lunch or something? I’d really, really like to talk to you right now.”_

“I don’t know…” Peter said hesitantly. 

_ “Please. I need to see you. I want to make sure you’re okay.”  _

“I’m  _ fine,”  _ Peter stressed. He was getting tired of saying that. 

_ “Yeah, I don’t believe that. Please, Pete. Just… what about tonight, then? I’ll even meet you in Forest Hills.”  _

Peter frowned. “Don’t you have work?”

_ “Not if you agree to get dinner with me.” _

He sighed, letting the silence linger as he tried to decide what to do. The thought of seeing MJ was scary somehow. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but think about how comforting her presence used to be. “Okay… fine,” he said finally. “Just text me where to meet you -- I’ll be there.” 

_ “You better be. But that sounds good.”  _ She sounded relieved.  _ “I’ll text you.”  _

“Bye, MJ.” 

_ “See you later, Peter.” _

He hung up and looked down at the phone in his hand, letting out a shaky breath. He hadn’t really talked to MJ in a long time now -- it had been since May’s funeral that he’d even seen her.

Peter glanced up at the mirror, still slightly fogged over from his shower. He still looked haggard and tired after cleaning himself up. Too bad he couldn’t wear the suit to see her. It’d be better if he could cover up his face. 

Of course, being clean meant that it was worse when he pulled on his suit, which was still sweaty and disgusting. He’d have to take care of that later, though -- it was almost time for him to meet Captain Stacy. Even though Peter was certain that the police wouldn’t be able to stand up against a symbiote, he felt like it was important for Stacy to know what he’d found out. The man was a sharp thinker about these things, and plus he deserved to know, after working on the case for so long. 

Hopefully, Peter could prove that he hadn’t gone crazy the other night when he’d let Venom out. Well -- at least not totally crazy. 

After grabbing a quick bite of whatever was in the fridge -- leftover burgers, he realized with a pang -- Peter pulled on his mask and slipped out his window into the alley. 

It didn’t take long to get to the police station. The streets were quiet today, the sky locked in and grey and the sky bitterly cold. He wondered if it was supposed to snow. 

Peter found Stacy leaning up against the rail on the rooftop next door to the station. As Peter landed, sending up a spray of the gravel surface, Stacy took one last drag before tossing the butt aside. 

“You know those things’ll kill you,” Peter said lightly. 

“Truthfully, I’ve got bigger problems to deal with,” Detective Stacy responded levelly, crushing the cigarette under his heel. “Namely  _ you  _ right now.”

Peter rubbed a hand on the back of his neck sheepishly, and stepped closer. “Right. Listen -- I can explain.” 

“You better,” Stacy said flatly. Apparently, there would be no lead up to this conversation. The detective was  _ pissed. _ “I know you operate around the law, Spidey -- but this is too far. I work with you because I respect you. But this --” he shook his head. 

Peter felt the guilt crawling up his throat, and he spoke quickly, desperate to fix the recriminating look on Stacy’s face. “The blood you gave me. The sample, remember? Of Carnage’s blood.” 

“Yeah,” Stacy said. “What about it.” 

“I took it back to the lab to look at it under a microscope.”

The detective frowned. “What? You don’t think we’ve done that already? And how does this --”

“It’s connected. It’s all connected. And -- you haven’t done it with a microscope like this one.” Peter took another step closer. “When I looked at the blood, it seemed like something I’d seen before. And that’s because I  _ had.  _ When I was studying Venom, learning how to fight him, I saw the unique structures that formed its symbiote.” 

A dawning of realization was coming to the detective’s expression. “Are you saying…” 

“Those same structures were in Carnage’s blood. Venom and Carnage,” Peter said intensely. “They’re connected.  _ That’s  _ why I did this. That’s why I -- broke Brock out of Ryker’s. Why Venom got free. I was trying to get it to talk, to tell me what it knew about Carnage.” 

Detective Stacy’s eyes were wide. “Carnage -- he’s not human.” 

Peter shook his head. “He’s a symbiote.”

The impact of that statement played out on Stacy’s face. “This --” he shook his head. “This changes everything.” 

“That’s why we never found any DNA,” Peter continued excitedly. “Why we can’t find any witnesses. Why the killings are so brutal.” 

“Does that mean -- does that mean you can find him?” Stacy asked, reaching forward to grip Peter’s shoulder. 

“It’s a step forward,” Peter said. He bit at his lip. “I know that I messed up. All I can say is that my intention was not for Venom to get loose. I just wanted information. And now… I’ll get him back. And Carnage.” 

Stacy stepped back and put his hands in his pockets, looking at Peter steadily. “The city’s up in arms about what you did,” he said. “I can’t have you visiting any more crime scenes, or even being involved with the police in any way.” 

Peter let out a breath. “I understand.” 

“Listen, though…” Stacy shifted on his feet. “I don’t wanna pry, but I can tell -- somewhere along the line, this got personal for you.”

Peter blinked, feeling a spark of unease. “What? How --” 

“I like to think I’ve gotten to know you a little bit by now,” the detective said, raising an eyebrow. He let out a breath. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Peter just stared at him, still struck that Stacy knew that much. Did he know more? Did he realize which death had affected Peter the most?

Stacy cleared his throat, breaking up the silence. “Anyway,” he said, “I’m not gonna cut you out of this. I know you’ll be trying to track this guy down either way. Plus, if what you say about Carnage is true, we need you. We’ll just have to be more careful about how we meet from now on.” 

“Thank you,” Peter managed.

Stacy nodded. “Just… try and keep me in the loop if you go off and do something else crazy, okay? My blood pressure can’t take it.” 

Peter cocked his head, amused. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The detective let out a long breath and leaned back up against the rail. “So,” he said. “What does this mean, exactly? That Carnage is a symbiote? I mean… Venom never did anything like this. He killed, yes -- but his murders weren’t random. They were targeted; influential people in the city.” 

Peter considered that. “Well… from what I know, the symbiote can’t function for long without a host.” 

“Yeah, Venom’s is Brock,” Stacy agreed. He picked up on what Peter was saying quickly. “So… Carnage has a host? He’s possessing some poor guy?” 

“Yeah, but no,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Venom’s attacks were based on the people Eddie Brock held grudges against -- including me. I think the symbiote is less of a parasite and more…” 

“More like a partner,” Stacy finished, his expression unsettled. 

Peter nodded slowly, disgust and anger swelling once again inside him. “Whoever’s in there… they want it just as much as the symbiote. They’re in this together.” 

Stacy met his gaze, brow furrowed. “Well,” he said gruffly. “This just got a lot more complicated.” 

* * *

Peter left his meeting with Stacy feeling just as unnerved as when he got there, but for different reasons. 

He’d been scared that the detective would lock him out completely; that he’d have to fight not only Carnage and Venom, but also the police. Thankfully, George Stacy didn’t seem to have any plans to try and lock him up, so that was a relief. 

It did throw him a little bit that Stacy might have some idea of who Spider-Man is. If he’d noticed that Spider-Man had gotten more affected by the murders after the death of May Parker… 

But there wasn’t much he could do about that. He’d have to trust that while Stacy might have suspicions, that he didn’t actually know who he was. Surely he’d have said something… right?

What really worried him now was Venom. Talking with Stacy had reminded him of the destruction that the creature had wrecked before he’d been taken down. Yet it had been a full day now since the symbiote had broken free, and still there was no sign of it anywhere in the city. Peter had been sure there would be swift attacks -- that Venom would continue the plans Spider-Man had halted months ago. But… there was nothing. Not even any signs that it had been seen by anyone in the city. 

Perhaps it had gone someplace to lick its wounds -- the vibrations from the cage had surely caused some damage. But if that was true, it was only a matter of time before he struck. 

The same was true of Carnage. It had been a couple of days now since the last attack. With the way the deaths had been coming quicker lately, Peter was sure the symbiote planned to kill again soon. 

It did confuse him that, since Carnage was a symbiote, that he hadn’t done  _ more  _ damage at this point. What he’d done already had been terrible, but with the powers it had, surely it was capable of a much higher degree of destruction. Perhaps it was the host who really controlled who was attacked and when.

Peter let out a sharp breath as he swung around the next corner, feeling unsettled. Venom could be anywhere at this point, but Carnage… for some reason, Carnage had stayed within the boundaries of Queens. That meant that somewhere, in some dark corner, he was hiding, and waiting. 

The thought set his spider-sense off, sending a shiver down his spine. He paused on a corner, his jaw clenched. 

“Ay, Spidey!” a voice called out from below. 

Peter looked down to find its source, a little confused. 

He spotted a man waving his hands above his head. “Right here!” the man yelled. “You think you could help me out for a second?” 

Peter blinked. Then he swung down to the street level, landing near to where the guy was standing. “What’s up?” he asked. 

The man shifted sheepishly, seemingly a little surprised that Peter had actually come down. “Uh, wow. Hi. This is kinda weird, but could you maybe help me get my garage closed? I have to get to work, and it’s stuck. I can’t just leave it open, ya know?” 

Peter cocked his head and looked over at the garage. Sure enough, the door was stuck halfway closed. 

“Uh, sorry man, I know you’re not really a mechanic --” 

But Peter just huffed in amusement, glancing over at him. “No worries, man. I’ve got an engineering degree. Let’s see what we can do.”

The next ten minutes were honestly some of the most enjoyable Peter had had in a while. After taking a look at the garage door, it had been pretty clear what went wrong. He’d grabbed a screwdriver from the guy’s toolbox and started working on it. 

When the garage door was closed and locked, the man turned to him, a grin on his face. “Thanks, Spidey. You’re a lifesaver.” 

Peter chuckled and waved him off. “No worries. It was fun.” 

“Sweet. I’d kill to stay and chat, honestly -- but I’m actually late for work, so…”

Peter sent a web up above him. “Glad to help. Have a good one, man.” Then he pulled himself up off the ground and swung away, a small smile on his face. 

It felt nice, to help someone with something so simple. That’s what Spider-Man was for. He hadn’t done enough of that recently. 

Of course, the contented feeling didn’t last. Not once he remembered that he’d been unable so far to help Queens with its real problem. That because of him, people were dead. May was -- 

He ground his teeth and swung on. As he did, snow started to fall lightly from the darkening sky. 

* * *

Peter met MJ at a diner down the street from May’s apartment. It was one that they’d gone to pretty often when they were in high school, and the place looked like it hadn’t changed since. 

Too bad everything else had. Everything was so much simpler then. 

Peter paused outside the door to the diner, swallowing nervously. MJ was already inside, seated at a booth on the far right. If he listened closely he’d probably be able to hear her breathing from here. 

The snow had started to accumulate a little on the ground, but the layer was still thin enough that it was only mixing with the grime on the sidewalks, leaving everything a little slushy and grey. 

Peter kicked some of the snow aside and took a deep breath. Then he pulled the door open and walked inside. 

MJ spotted him immediately. Sure enough, she was seated off to the right in a booth. She was on the side facing the door, so when Peter slid in opposite he felt like his back was oddly exposed.

He pulled off his scarf and hat and put them on the seat next to him. 

“Hey,” MJ said, obviously a little unsure. 

Peter gave her a wan smile. “Hey,” he replied. 

MJ opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She put her hands on the tabletop, clenched together. “Sorry, this is just…” 

“A little weird?” Peter finished. 

MJ huffed. “Yeah, it is, a bit.” She looked him over appraisingly. “You look like shit.” 

Peter leaned his head back against the seat, somehow more amused than annoyed at the statement. Because, yeah -- it was kinda true. “Thanks. You do know how to make a girl feel pretty, don’t you?” 

“Honesty is my specialty,” she replied lightly.

Peter sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “What… what are we doing here, MJ?” he asked tiredly. 

MJ bit at her lip for a moment, and then grabbed the menu from the side of the table. “Let’s just -- let’s just order first, okay? Then we can talk.” 

He raised an eyebrow, but only reached for his own menu. He looked over it for a while even though he already knew what he wanted, casting surreptitious glances as MJ as he did. 

She seemed as nervous as him. She kept tapping her fingers on the menu, and on the table, something he knew she did when she was anxious. He couldn’t help but think about the last time they sat opposite each other in a booth -- and how much different things had been then.

The waitress walked up to them, holding up a pad and pen. “What would you like?” she asked casually. 

They ordered, MJ getting a short stack and Peter a club sandwich. “Hold the mayo,” he added. 

MJ quirked her brow at him. “What? Did you and mayo have a falling out?” 

“We’re on kind of a break right now,” Peter shrugged, catching her eye. 

She quickly took a sip of her water.

“So…” Peter said, clasping his hands together and rubbing his thumb on the opposite palm, “Are you gonna interrogate me about my recent life choices?” 

MJ shrugged. “That was kinda the plan, yeah.”

“Well, I probably don’t have any good answers for you. I’m doing alright, really -- all things considered.”

She raised one eyebrow at him skeptically. “Really? You’re gonna try that?” 

Peter pressed his lips together. “It’s the truth,” he said tightly. “I’ve made some bad decisions lately, but I’m -- managing. I’m gonna fix it.” 

MJ’s gaze was softer than he expected. “You don’t have to lie to me, Peter. I can take it.” 

“Things are  _ fine,”  _ Peter stressed, but the words sounded unconvincing even to him.  _ “I’m  _ fine. It’s just -- complicated. Right now.” 

“Right,” MJ sighed, and bit her lip as she considered him. Peter tried not to fidget. “Have you talked to Tony recently?” she asked eventually. 

Peter bristled suddenly. “What -- did he call you? Did he tell you what happened? Is that why you wanted to see me?” 

MJ held up her hands, eyes wide. “Whoa -- no. We don’t -- I don’t talk to Tony. I haven’t.” She lowered her hands and frowned at him. “What are you talking about, though? What happened?” 

Damn, he shouldn't have said anything. Peter pressed his lips together and leaned back in his seat. “Nothing,” he bit out.

MJ’s expression said she didn’t believe that for a second. “Right. Well… I guess you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” 

The air between them felt awkward for a moment as they were both reminded of where they stood with each other. 

“I’m not crazy, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Peter said suddenly, thinking of his conversation with Ned. “I broke Brock out for a reason.” 

MJ frowned. “What was the reason, then?” 

For some reason, Peter didn’t want to say. It felt like saying anything would open up the whole can. So he just crossed his arms and sat quietly, staring at the paper placemat.

“Peter --” MJ cut herself off with a shaky exhale. “Look, I… I’m worried about you, okay? I know that I ended things, and I -- I don’t have any right. To know about your life.” She shook her head, her curls falling around her face. “But… I’m just worried about you,” she said again quietly.

Peter clenched his jaw. It felt somewhat like torture, to think that MJ worried but still didn’t want to be with him. “Well, you don’t need to be,” he said shortly. 

MJ just stared him down. “Peter,” she said steadily. “I  _ know  _ you. More than I know anyone. You don’t need to try and fool me -- because you  _ can’t.”  _

Peter looked down at his clasped hands and let out a sharp breath through his nose. He looked for the anger that had been there with Tony last night, but in its stead his chest was filled something colder. He just felt tired. “I know,” he said quietly. 

“So tell me,” MJ pressed, “Please. What happened?”

Peter let out a slow sigh, and looked up again to meet MJ’s eyes. She looked back intently, and in her eyes Peter saw what he needed to see. That out of anyone, she would understand. She might think of him as a terrible person because of it, but she would understand. 

“It’s all because of Carnage,” he said finally, his voice low. “All of it.” 

MJ sat quietly, waiting for him to continue. 

And so Peter did. He told her about everything that had happened in the last few days. He did leave out a few details that would probably make him seem more unhinged than he was. It was probably for the best, because MJ still looked a little horrified after he’d explained everything. 

At some point, their food had arrived. After Peter finished speaking, he picked at his plate, moving french fries around. MJ hadn’t touched her food yet, obviously still processing everything he’d said. 

She brought a hand to the bridge of her nose, looking pained. “So… Venom and Carnage. They’re the same?” 

“All I know is that they’re connected.” 

MJ let out a slow breath and nodded.

“I’m going to find them,” Peter told her.

“What about Tony?” MJ asked softly, ignoring his last statement. “You -- earlier, you…” she trailed off, seemingly uncertain of how to ask her question. 

Peter shifted in his seat. “He came over last night. To check on me.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “It didn’t end well.”

She raised her eyebrows at him in question. 

“We fought,” Peter said shortly. “I told him to leave, so he did.” 

MJ nodded slowly. “Is he still in the city?” 

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged. 

“You haven’t talked to him again?” 

He frowned. “No.” 

MJ nodded again, and fiddled with her fork. She seemed just as averse to eating right now as Peter did. 

Peter put a french fry in his mouth, just to prove that he could. “I’ve seen your stuff in the  _ Chronicle --  _ about Carnage,” he said. 

MJ paused, glancing up at him, and then looked a little horrified. “Peter… I hope you know I’d  _ never  _ put what you say in the paper.” 

Peter huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I’m not worried about that. It would probably be hard to explain, anyways.”

A little of the tension broke between them as MJ chuckled back. “Yeah, that’s true.” She took a bite of her pancakes. “What about it, then?” 

“Well… it’s cool you’re getting published, is all,” he replied. Then he added, “But why Carnage? I thought you wanted to work on more important stuff. You know, stuff outside New York.”

MJ shrugged, and smiled thinly. “Well, it’s what they want me on right now. But… sometimes, the important stuff  _ is  _ the stuff in New York,” she said simply.

Peter blinked at her. He felt strangely encouraged by that statement. And somewhere in the back of his mind… an idea started to form. 

“You know,” Peter said slowly, picking up another french fry. “Venom -- he said something… before he ran off. He said that I should have just asked Brock about Carnage.” He bit at his lip. “You don’t think…” 

“That something happened at the prison?” MJ finished quickly. “The host --” 

Peter nodded. “It could be someone from the prison. Maybe… if Brock had a roommate, or a friend in there -- someone he could have told about the symbiote…”

MJ looked excited by the idea. Then she paused, and narrowed her eyes at Peter. “Are you trying to say what I think you are?” 

Peter shrugged, and popped the fry in his mouth, trying to look casual. “If you’d be up to it,” he said, “I could use your help. I think an established writer has a bit of a better chance getting access to Rykers’ files than Peter Parker -- and definitely more of a chance than Spider-Man right now.” 

MJ considered him for a moment, and then a small smile came slowly to her face. She nodded. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've noticed that for some reason, I write a lot of dialogue scenes where people are eating. I wonder what that says about me.  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you thought. We've only got a few more chapters to go before the climax really begins...


End file.
